Apex
by Ryan PM
Summary: A retelling of the Jedi Knight class story through vignettes, multiple POV's, updated frequently. Jedi Knight/Kira Carsen. Prompts for chapters are accepted. Current vignette: Events come to a head, and Hayram confronts Sadic with only his fists and the Force...
1. Introduction- T7-01

_**Star Wars: The Old Republic**_

**Apex**

**Prologue: Padawan**

**Introduction- T7-01**

The light in the cave was dim and unchanging; the Flesh Raiders had little need for illumination, unlike their organic counterparts, and it provided them with an advantage should the counterparts ever be unfortunate or foolhardy enough to stumble into their lairs, nested around the Jedi Temple.

It wasn't a obstacle for T7-01. Its photoreceptors were more than able to transfer what little light did filter into the cave to provide a visual image for its processors, and, barring that, its audio receptors could make up for the impediment. It was all irrelevant at the moment; it was still behind the storage cell the Raiders had set up, still locked away, unable to return to base and provide the Jedi with the intelligence it had gathered.

The astromech droid's behavioral matrix thrummed in an equivalent of worry. The Raiders were gathering strength, and without knowledge of the buildup the Jedi would be caught off guard. Hundreds would die. The Raiders would multiply. Destruction and chaos was the logical conclusion.

It gave a nervous _twoo_ of trepidation that echoed through the cave. In response, the Flesh Raiders outside growled or hissed back at the sound, beating their massive paws together into fists.

T7 thought it understood what helplessness probably felt like for an organic, and calculated how long it would be before its inevitable destruction. It was not optimistic.

Being a droid, the sudden change in light and sound in the otherwise static environment of the cave alerted it instantly. An echo of a clash in the distance. Metal hitting metal, then sinking into flesh. The sound of a Flesh Raider groaning and thudding to the rocky floor. It tilted its head curiously. Perhaps, it mused, they were fighting each other out of boredom.

The change in light did not support that assumption. Flickering rays of illumination began to flash in the cave, reaching T7s cell. A short analysis of the light and its waning and waxing nature indicated that it came from fire. A torch was the likely origin.

Flesh Raiders didn't use torches, which meant-

Another growl, this time of rage. The Flesh Raiders outside its cell ran off, vibroblades humming as they activated. A short second later, blaster shots sounded.

T7 knew what it was: another organic, yet decidedly not a Flesh Raider. A Jedi? A local twi'lek? More data was required, but it rolled forward to the door hopefully and diverted more processing power to its audio receptors.

No blaster shot impacted anything but cave wall; there was no burning hiss or fleshy thud, and the consistent clangs informed T7 that whoever had entered the Flesh Raider den had come with a vibrosword. The strikes were fast, direct, and every few seconds another Raider fell to the floor heavily.

Maybe, it wondered, it would actually survive to complete its mission.

A harsh gasp of pain from human vocal cords motivated T7 to back away. Had the intruder failed? No, the sounds of battle continued, and then the human voice (a male, it recognized) cried out powerfully, followed by the sound of bone breaking and a Flesh Raider sighing as its life drained from it.

Silence.

If T7 could hate anything, it hated silence. It eventually picked up the human breathing outside the cell once its receptors had adjusted, and backed away from the door when it realized the human was walking toward its cell. It readied its only defense: a stun ray, extending from its head dome which, when fired, would launch a torrent of electrical energy at an enemy.

It wouldn't stop whoever had killed his way through a Flesh Raider den, but T7 couldn't help it.

The human stopped at the cell door, fiddled with the controls. Seconds later the metal gate hissed loudly in the relative quiet, and revealed a young male wearing the attire of a Jedi Padawan. He carried a torch in his left hand, a vibroblade in the other, and he scanned the cell quickly, looking for danger, before his eyes settled on the weapons cache stuffed in the corner of the cell.

His left arm was scraped from a grazing slice from an enemy blade, but otherwise the Jedi seemed unharmed. An unlikely occurrence, given the Flesh Raider's dangerous nature. Nevertheless, T7 was logical enough to know an escape when it saw it.

_Hello? _it sounded tentatively.

The Jedi turned his head toward the droid, blinked. "Oh, hello there," he said, surprised. "Didn't see you, little guy."

His vocal tones were friendly, and T7 decided it safe enough to roll forward to the Jedi. _Jedi= Come to rescue T7?_ it wondered.

"No, I didn't come for you," the Jedi replied. "I'm here to... deprive the Flesh Raiders of their weapons." He knelt beside T7, letting the vibroblade rest on the ground beside him. "How'd you get here? I didn't think the Flesh Raiders would let something moving like you survive."

At least, the droid thought, he understood droidspeak. _T7= Jedi reconnaissance droid. T7= Captured by Flesh Raiders. Restraining bolt= malfunctioning._

Its core hummed irritably at the thought of the bolt, stuck to T7's chassis and preventing it from performing scans as often as it would have preferred. _Flesh Raiders= capture T7. Sensors= restricted from bolt._ It tottered on its feet to express its thoughts adequately; sometimes there were mistranslations between its kind and organics. _T7= valuable technology. T7= shut down when Flesh Raiders found it. T7= taken as treasure._

The Jedi rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Lucky break for you. Still, I've got to finish this job before the Flesh Raiders come back. Think you can make it out of here?"

T7 considered, then realized that leaving was risky, and that its primary mission was still incomplete. Missions failure was unacceptable. There was, it calculated, one option.

_T7= may be destroyed. T7= has information for Jedi, must deliver._

"Information?" The Jedi asked. "What kind?"

_T7= turned on spy camera when being taken. T7= saw Flesh Raider leader._

Something happened in the organic's mood. His face darkened, a frown creased his features, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. It was an odd shift for T7 to process, the Jedi having gone from caring and kind to otherwise in seconds. "Their leader," he muttered. "Can you show me?"

_T7= restrained by-_

It didn't get a chance to finish, because the Jedi ripped the bolt off immediately and stood back, waiting for the video. T7 trundled back, turned on its holoprojector apparatus behind its eyepiece, and beamed the signal to the cave floor.

A hologram image, tilted slightly to reflect the way T7 had been laying on its side during the exchange, began to play with associated audio through speakers embedded in the droid's head plating.

A Nautolan and human spoke with one another, both wearing Jedi robes with armor plating underneath. The Nautolan, T7 had understood, was clearly the superior. _"Teach these Flesh Raiders how to use these weapons,"_ he said in a smooth, deep voice. _"Train them on the twi'lek invaders."_

The human, likely the second in command, responded impatiently. _"When will we strike against the Jedi?"_ he demanded, hands clenching into fists.

The Nautolan raised his hands in a soothing gesture. _"Patience, my apprentice. The Jedi will fall. I have foreseen it. When our army reaches full strength, they will not be able to stop us."_ The Nautolan turned to T7's camera, frowned thoughtfully. _"Throw that droid in the cell with the rest of the weapons."_ The hologram ceased, T7 having calculated that further surveillance would be more risky than productive.

The Jedi stared at the space where the hologram had been displayed for a moment, then retrieved his vibroblade from the ground. "Any idea who the Nautolan is?"

T7 searched its databanks in a microsecond. _T7= does not know._

"Alright. Then you're coming with me. Master Orgus needs to see that hologram. He might know more about their leader."

T7 gave a shrill chirp of its equivalent of excitement. _T7=happy to go!_

The Jedi smiled slightly. "Alright, little guy. Just don't go crazy with that bolt off, okay?"

T7 gave a beep of acknowledgment. Besides, it reasoned, it had never needed the little thing, anyway.

"Now, about these weapons... I've got to get them back to the twi'leks." He looked at the cache, pondering a solution.

T7 scanned the cell, located a wheeled cart in the corner, and informed the Jedi of its existence with a pointed _bleep_.

"Perfect," he agreed, beginning to grab the rifles and pistols from the cache and toss them into the bed of the cart. "Think you can drag this thing a few miles?"

_T7= ready to go!_

"Excellent. Then you can pull it, and I'll guard you from any-"

The cave suddenly echoed with a loud howl. No, T7 recognized. Loud _howls_. _T7=worried, _it admitted. Nevertheless, it extended its rear tow cable from its chassis and tangled it to the handle of the cart, diverted power to its motors and stun ray. _T7= bad feeling._

The Jedi looked down at it, hefting the torch and vibroblade. "Don't worry, little guy. I'll protect you," he promised, completely serious.

T7 heard more howls and estimated the incoming Flesh Raider horde to number at least a dozen, and quickly calculated their chance or survival. The number was too small to bear considering.

Somehow, even with their odds, T7 believed the Jedi.


	2. Ghost- Orgus Din

**Ghost- Orgus Din**

Orgus Din missed the days when he was younger.

As it was, he felt the ache in his bones as he sat upon the floor of the Matriarch's dining room, taking it upon himself to declare it a suitable meditation chamber and opening himself up to the Force. Soon enough, it thrummed vibrantly through his body, easing the tension from the energy of the day. Fighting Flesh Raiders and running around saving Padawans was hard enough when you were young. At Orgus' age, pushing sixty...

He grunted, shaking off the fatigue. He had work to do.

It was odd, the feeling in the Force. On Tython, it shined as brightly as ever, filled with the with light of a thousand Jedi, a thousand stars. It was a galaxy within the galaxy, a bright, spinning beacon of hope against the dark void beyond.

And yet, deeper, beneath the near-blinding vibrancy of the Jedi in the Force, a small smokey-black cloud was spreading. It started as a wisp, something barely noticeable, yet when Orgus peered into its depths more acutely he could see the tendrils growing, widening, blotting out small rays of light and moving, inexorably, into a larger, thicker state.

Orgus frowned. Such a thing didn't belong on Tython, yet here it was. What was worse was that something was familiar about it, like a bad aftertaste from a spoiled meal.

He didn't have time to ponder the growing darkness further, because a tremor in the threads of the Force drew him out of his trance, taking his attention to the Matriarch's compound.

His new apprentice had returned, it seemed.

Hayram Antilles was waiting for him when he emerged from the Matriarch's dining hall, an astromech droid in tow. And a cart full of weapons outside the door behind them.

Orgus raised a brow. "You're back," he stated bluntly.

Hayram shrugged. "Almost as good as ever," he agreed, hefting a scratched shoulder. "And I brought-"

"He's back!" Ranna Tao'Ven shouted, emerging from her mother's bedroom with her two bodyguards. The green-skinned girl's eyes widened as she saw the collection of armaments outside the compound. "I... you-"

"It was T7, not me," he averted.

The little droid, gray and orange in its markings, beeped enthusiastically next to Hayram, but Orgus didn't know enough droidspeak to understand it.

"I may have helped," his apprentice amended. "You know. Hitting things with a sharp stick."

"I can't believe it," Ranna said, almost mystified, striding to him. "You actually brought them."

Her bodyguard huffed in response; Orgus remembered him promoting the idea of sabotaging the weapons to kill more Flesh Raiders. A crude, brutal response, in Orgus' opinion.

"Now you can defend yourselves more effectively," Hayram told her.

He looked to Orgus, who gave him a nod. _Well done, Padawan._

"My people have never had a champion like you before," Ranna continued, eyes glazing over in an obvious display, lips parted, body language expressive.

_Young people. Ugh._

"It was nothing," Hayram said dismissively, waving a hand, and Orgus repressed a chuckle. Hayram, he knew already, had a tendency to narrow his focus on block out all else, but in some situations it served him well. "Master," he addressed Orgus with urgency lacing his voice, "I have something important to show you. T7 recorded the Flesh Raiders and their leader when he was captured. He's one of the Order's recon droids."

"Ah, T7." Orgus recognized the little astromech from the Temple. "You're the only one to return. Glad to see it."

The droid beeped happily in response. "Go ahead, little guy," Hayram urged. The droid whistled in acknowledgment and projected a scene onto the floor.

And Orgus felt something cold settle in his chest as he watched it. _Bengel. What have you done?_

The questions were endless: when had it started? Back on Coruscant? Earlier? Later? What could Orgus have done to prevent it? Why was Bengel here now, and why attack the Jedi with Flesh Raiders? He quickly spied into the Force, drawing it into himself and piercing the light of Tython, diving straight into the dark mist beneath...

Sure enough, Bengel was there. He hadn't felt it before, hadn't _recognized_ his former Padawan... whether that was because he had changed or because Orgus had lost touch with him was anyone's guess. He felt the presence, listened to the vibrations it made...

Bengel stank of the dark side, yet... he was not Sith. Not _Sith_! And if he wasn't Sith...

"That's all that was recovered," Hayram said when it finished, oblivious to Orgus' discomfort. "But if the apprentice was already killed, that means the other, the nautolan, must be the master!" He took a step forward to Orgus. "Master, I think we can really do this if we can track him-... Master?"

Orgus blinked, shook his head. "Yes, yes. Hmm." The options arrayed themselves in front of his disciplined mind in seconds, and his choice was easy. "I... need to spend some more time with the droid. I think I may know something about the figure in the holo."

Hayram raised a brow. "You know him?"

Orgus help up a hand. "Maybe," he diverted. "It's too quick to form judgments. You should hear what Ranna's lieutenant has to say about the Flesh Raiders and concern yourself with that for now. I'll have more information for you soon."

Hayram wasn't convinced, and maybe a little offended. "Master, I-"

"Padawan," Orgus said gently, looking his apprentice in the eye and knowing that he could sense the grim despair within. "Please. Trust me. I'll tell you everything soon."

For a moment it looked like the young Jedi would argue, but he nodded, if reluctantly. "Okay. T7?" He looked down the droid. "Stay out of trouble, alright?"

The droid agreed immediately.

"Lieutenant," Hayram said after, turning to the twi'leks. "What's happening now?"

Ranna's bodyguard started to speak. "They're mobilizing, and in _force_. Gathering at the ruins of Kaleth in numbers we... well, frankly, didn't know they _had_..."

Orgus led the droid away from the others into the dining hall, where he knelt next to the small machine and sighed heavily. For a long, long moment, he felt the weight of his years rest upon his shoulders and he closed his eyes. The darkness was growing, still spreading, and it was going to take a lot to stop it.

It didn't feel like Orgus was going to be the one to do it, either. He didn't like that; staying out of the action was something he'd always loathed. Maybe it was why he'd been drawn to Hayram. Maybe it was why he'd been drawn to Bengel.

_Bengel, I failed you... But I will bring you back, I swear it..._

"Twoo?"

Orgus looked up, saw T7 staring at him with its eye expectantly, and the Master smiled. "Alright, little one," he began. "I need to know everything you saw on your mission. Every bit of data. It might be important to locating my... our enemy."

"Breeeep!"

_Hmm. This could be a problem._ "I... think that was affirmative?" Orgus was certain that the droid would have raised an eyebrow had it been able. "Ah well. We'll figure things out as we go." _I always have._

_Maybe that's where I went wrong._


	3. Agitation- Kira Carsen

**Agitation- Kira Carsen**

Kira usually liked danger.

The Jedi life was good and all, and it was really what she needed after the hellish version of a childhood she'd survived, but after a while all the meditation and peace and everything just started to... _bore_. Kira hated boredom.

So when Master Kiwiiks told her that they had Flesh Raiders to face, she'd happily readied herself and rushed to the front of the Temple. Kiwiiks had regarded her enthusiasm with her usual resignation and they'd set off for Kaleth, where the Raiders had been supposedly gathering. On top of that, her Master had sensed something... off about the place.

Then they'd arrived, and Kira quickly started wishing that she was bored again.

She'd sensed something... dark about their journey from the start, as soon as they'd set foot in the ruins from thousands of years before. They'd progressed into a cave that pierced Mount Jola and started to make their way to the valley on the other side.

Kira had ignited her lightsaber, its violet glow casting colorful shadows on the walls in the dark.

"Kira," Master Kiwiiks said. "What's wrong?"

Always astute, that Master Kiwiiks. "I dunno," Kira muttered. "Just... I have a bad feeling about this."  
"Still your thoughts," Kiwiiks cautioned. "There is danger ahead, but we must be ready to face it."

"Yeah, I know..." Still, she kept her blade at the ready as they emerged from the tunnel, into the sunlight. A small alcove of trees and foliage surrounded the small ceremonial ruin ahead: little more than a series of steps and pillars from a temple collapsed long ago.

And it was quiet. Too quiet. There were no birds chirping, no animals grazing. "They're here," Kiwiiks murmured, standing tall and closing her eyes.

_You're either really crazy, Master_, Kira thought as she angled her lightsaber to guard, _or really brave..._

Tentatively, she reached into the Force...

And received a second's warning before a blaster shot sang through the air and aimed straight for her head. Kira reacted without thinking, catching the bolt with her blade and whipping it back from where it had come, burying into a Flesh Raider chest and killing it.

"They're here!" she cried, as roars and growls echoed around the alcove. Suddenly she could see them emerge from the trees and from behind boulders and in bushes. Dozens... All snarling and gnashing their large teeth and waving weapons at them.

_Well... At least I'm not bored._

Kiwiiks ignited her own sky blue blade and held it defensively across her chest. "Calm yourself, Padawan," she reassured. "Move with me. They will not take us if we work together."

Kira nodded, and it began.

Blaster bolts shot through the air from multiple guns, and while her master went to work snapping them away Kira leapt through the air and impaled a Flesh Raider with her purple blade, ignoring his fumbling attempts to raise a vibrosword to stop her. As he fell she spun, whirling to sweep aside a trio of bolts from a Raider with a rifle and continuing the movement, catching two vibroswords on both ends of her double saber. The beasts bore down on her with hungry grins, and she snarled and shoved back, reaching into the Force to enhance her strength; they stumbled back and she charged.

A series of quick strikes finished the first off and a backstab impaled the second, but more were pouring from the trees. Kiwiiks was unaware or too busy to notice the four Raiders rushing at her back, and Kira leapt again, landing amidst them and spinning her lightsaber in a deadly twirly; she caught them in their flanks, and the plasma burned into their chests and vital organs and stopped their assault cold.

_Actually_, she thought with growing energy, _we might just pull this off_.

Fling the lightsaber across the alcove to catch a Raider behind a tree, next...

Toss a boulder into a group of them; crush a few, leave the rest scattered, next...

Tear up the ground, grab some shards of rock, stab them into _that_ one, there...

The elation that filled her couldn't be described, really. There was something about combat and excitement that filled her bones and sated some old craving, embedded into her being. As she spun and danced across the makeshift battlefield, danger clawing at her from all around, Kira felt more at home than anywhere else.

The battle was almost child's play, after a while. Kira laughed as she leapt for a third time, using a Flesh Raider's shoulders as a perch as she swiped a few blaster bolts into their owners and then lopped the head off her ride, taking an acrobatic flip back to the ground.

_Force_, she loved her job...

It was then that everything changed.

The Force surged, and suddenly she was swept off her feet and she crashed into the ground, stunned enough to land on her face instead of her feet. _Ouch... Nice, that'll leave a good bruise..._

At first she thought that maybe Kiwiiks had accidentally hit her, but that was nigh impossible; her master was nothing if not precise and patient. She wouldn't have missed.

The source, she discovered as she looked up with growing horror, was a Flesh Raider. It stood atop the ruins in the center of the alcove, grinning madly at them and waving around a vibrosword in its elation.

"Master..." she called.

"I see him!" Kiwiiks affirmed.

"Flesh Raiders can't use the-" That was as far as she got, because the beast snarled and launched its hands forward again, knocking her back a few feet and causing Kiwiiks to drop her guard, bracing herself against the telekinetic assault.

It was enough to let a stray blaster bolt burn her master's right leg, and Kiwiiks knelt, crying out.

"Master!" Kira called, summoning the Force and charging to her feet, leaping at the creature even as Kiwiiks stayed in the fight, taking on another Flesh Raider attacker with her lightsaber.

The Force-using Flesh Raider caught her blow with his own weapon, then launched a meaty fist into Kira's stomach. The wind rushed out of her and she rolled on the ground, trying to spring up behind it; she was too slow, and the Raider lashed out with its foot, catching her in the chin.

Somewhere between being launched into the air and landing Kira had the coherency to think groggily, _This is bad..._

Then she landed on the stone of the ruin, her lightsaber tumbling from her numb fingers, the violet blade shrinking into the hilt. The Flesh Raider was on her in an instant, sword forgotten, its paws grabbing at her shoulders and bringing her up to its gaping maw. Distantly she heard Kiwiiks call her name in desperation, but she couldn't respond. Its breath was hot and the smell dazed her further, and the creature bared her neck, preparing to sink its teeth into her-

It dropped her, suddenly; something had charged the Flesh Raider and barreled into its bulk, and now the two combatants had rolled away into the center of the alcove. There was a strangled cry, a thick, wet slicing noise, and then a thud.

Then there was quiet, save for Kiwiiks' lightsaber humming in the background.

Kira coughed breath back into her lungs, rising unsteadily as hands grasped her arm and stabilized her. "Th-... thanks, Master..."  
"Ah..." A voice, male. "Well, I'm not exactly your master..."

She blinked, opened her eyes to refocus on the person in front of her. Human. A guy. Sun-tanned pale skin. Windswept, dark brown hair. Blue eyes with sharp eyebrows that were raised questioningly. Yeah. Definitely not Master Kiwiiks.

She coughed again, waving off the help. "Ah, right. Sorry. Flesh Raider breath... does that to you..." She sniffed. "Force. Maybe they're so pissed off all the time because they smell each other."

The Jedi in front of her paused, then laughed. "Heh. Maybe."

"Kira!" Kiwiiks said, limping toward her urgently. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay, Master," she assured her, calling her lightsaber to her hand as demonstration. She sighed contentedly when it slapped into her palm. _Ah, missed you._

"I... yes, I can see that," Kiwiiks said slowly, swallowing and regaining her control. Kira smiled slightly, reached out a hand to pat her shoulder. _I was worried for you too, Master._

She regarded the dead Flesh Raider behind her master, the one who had almost eaten her. "So," she shrugged. "Who killed Stinky?"

The Jedi raised a hand. "Me."

Kira smirked. "You're certainly not lacking for ego."

He smirked back. "You asked." _Huh. Guess not every other Jedi is stuck up. Where have I seen him?_

"It is fortunate you came, Padawan," Master Kiwiiks said, turning to him. "Oh. Orgus' new apprentice. I remember you from the Council meeting."

"Hayram Antilles," he inclined his head respectfully. "At your service, Master."

It suddenly struck Kira how many _dead_ Flesh Raiders there were. Glancing around, she could see _dozens_ of bodies littering the alcove. "Think we put a dent in their numbers?" she mused.

"I'd say," Hayram agreed. "Except... that one was different."

"He used the Force," Kiwiiks added. "Troubling." _Yeah. That's one way of putting it._ "It... doesn't seem possible."

None of them, it seemed, wanted to consider the implications of a Flesh Raider army capable of using the Force.

"Orgus sent you?" Kiwiiks continued after a moment.

"Yes, Master. I was sent to see what I could do about the gathering army here. Looks like it's delayed, if nothing else."

"I felt a disturbance here, and went to investigate. It seems I felt this Flesh Raider in particular." She nodded at the body of the Force-Sensitive. "In any event, we need to report this development to the Council."

"And get some medical treatment," Kira said lightly, though her eyes flicked worriedly to her Master's leg.

"I'll be fine, Kira," she said gently. "Padawan Antilles, will you accompany us?"

He looked around, seemed to conclude that there was nothing else of interest there. "I suppose so. Right now I'm waiting for Master Orgus to-" Something at his belt beeped, and he retrieved a holocommunicator. "Ah. Here he is now."

Orgus Din appeared over the communicator in Hayram's palm, a flickering blue ghost. _"Padawan, I need you back at the Matriarch's enclave. I've got a lot to tell you. Hurry."_

"I'm on my way," Hayram said immediately, and cut the transmission. "Guess I'm going the other way."

"Very well," Kiwiiks said, nodding. "Be careful, Padawan. And may the Force be with You."

"Yeah. Take care of yourself," Kira added. "Maybe we'll see each other back at the Temple."

He smiled. "Maybe we will." And he turned away to run back into the forest.

It was an odd feeling, and she couldn't explain it, but Kira suddenly felt that after today, she would never be bored again.


	4. Alpha- Hayram Antilles

**Alpha- Hayram Antilles**

Bengel had been Orgus' apprentice.

The thought twisted about in Hayram's mind as he made his way through the mouth of the cave, peering into the deep blackness beyond. Wishing he had a torch to light the way, he nonetheless withdrew his vibroblade and proceeded forward, reaching out with the Force to guide his way. _Should've brought a glow rod..._

If the lair held any surprises, he'd have to encounter them the old-fashioned way. The cave was black in the Force as well as the physical world.

When Orgus had told Hayram of his connection to the monster causing all of this, the questions had only increased, rather than diminished. _Why did he hide it?_ Hayram wondered. _Was he afraid? Nervous? Master Orgus doesn't seem to be the kind of man to fear much._ _Still... to know that the one you trained is responsible for all this death and suffering..._

That brought up another thought: what to do with Bengel when they inevitably caught up with him. Hayram had brooded upon multiple solutions, up to killing the renegade Jedi if need be. _Justice. Isn't it? Bengel Moore has killed hundreds with his actions. The Flesh Raiders can't truly be blamed; they're nothing more than animals, or near-sentients if you want to get technical. No, this is all on Bengel's head..._

_ But Orgus won't stand for that. He wouldn't before, and he won't now. I suppose... it'll be up to him._ Knowing his Master, even for the short time he'd been apprenticed to him, Hayram understood that Orgus would try to capture his former Padawan and redeem him.

Hayram didn't have the same optimism.

The pair had narrowed Bengel's possible locations to two, judging by the level of corruption in the Force on Tython. Orgus' fallen apprentice was either somewhere in the mountains, or here, in this cave...

He stopped in his walk in the darkness, hearing a wheezing gasp coming from somewhere in front of him. He readied his blade, reaching out with the Force and closing his eyes; they were useless now. To his surprise, he didn't feel the presence of one of the marauders.

It was a flickering light, a star fading in the void. A Jedi, dying.

From the gloom a Selkath rasped in its native tongue, "Please... come closer..."  
And Hayram went, swallowing the sudden fear and despair that overcame him. Feeling someone die was bad enough. A Jedi was something more... devastating.

He couldn't see him in the darkness, not really, but Hayram could feel him, could sense his expiring ally at his feet and he knelt, reaching out tentatively with his gloved hands. They came away wet with blood. "I'm here," he said quietly.

"Yes... you are..." The Selkath whispered, breathing rattling even more harshly now. "You... have to stop... him..."

"Bengel Moore." It wasn't a question at all. Somehow Hayram just knew.

The Selkath coughed violently, and he felt the dying Jedi tremble on the cave floor. "I... tried to confront him... stop his... experiments..."

"Experiments?" Hayram asked.

"He... has trained one... to use..." His hand reached out in the dark, gripped Hayram's with sudden, desperate strength. "My lightsaber!" he gasped. "Please... you must... find it..."

_Another Force user, _Hayram realized. "I'll stop him," he promised. "I'm sorry I was too late..."

The Selkath shook its fleshy head. "No, young one... you are not." He let out a final breath, and suddenly his star dimmed and vanished entirely.

The cave seemed to grow colder, all of a sudden.

Hayram clenched his jaw, stood with his ready in his hand. "I'll stop him," he repeated softly, and made his way into the dark.

His skin felt itchy, like something was crawling atop it. He could _feel_ eyes on him, not with the Force but with his own primal instincts. He was being watched. Hunted. He activated the vibroblade, welcoming the near-silent hum it emitted and holding it at guard in the blackness of the cave. He was in an antechamber, he thought, judging by the way subtle sounds echoed around him. Deep enough that it would take him some time to run back to the entrance.

If there was a trap for Jedi, this was the place to spring it. Alone in the dark, in a predator's lair, with not even clarity in the Force for guidance. He swallowed, his heart rate speeding automatically.

Hayram felt his grim determination grow alongside his fear. "I'm ready when you are," he called out. "You killed one of us, but I'm ready for you." He spun slowly, eyes uselessly scanning the dark. "Come on, you animal." Silence, but the eyes still watched him from all around.

He couldn't help the slightly-panicked growl that tore from his throat. "COME ON!" he barked.

A _snap-hiss_, a flash of green...

A lightsaber appeared in the black and swung hard for Hayram's skull. He caught it with his own blade, using both hands to push back against the force of the blow. For a moment the two weapons clashed, snarling and hissing against one another. Hayram could make out something behind the lightsaber, a massive head, a series of sharp teeth in a grinning maw...

The Flesh Raider. It chuckled malevolently and snarled, twisting the saber away and stabbing at Hayram with incredible speed. He only barely parried, batting aside the lunge and spinning to bring his sword around for the Raider's flank. His attack was blocked easily, and a warning in the Force urged him to drop, just below the retaliatory swing from his foe that would have taken off his head.

Then the lightsaber shrank away and everything was black again.

Hayram tensed, holding his vibroblade at the ready, a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, his heart hammering loudly in his ears. _Easy there, easy..._

Silence. The beast was smart... smarter than most of its kin. Even so, Hayram was smarter. Had this been a contest in the open, where he could _see_, it would have already been over.

But here, Hayram was the intruder, in the place where the dark resided and the light faded.

The lightsaber appeared again, cutting at Hayram's knees; he blocked, twisted the swords around and attacked quickly, trying to get the creature on the defensive. It was no use; the Flesh Raider was stronger than Hayram, and didn't back off an inch, letting the Padawan tire himself out for a few seconds before roaring and kicking out with its meaty leg.

The blow almost connected before Hayram ducked away, rolling, and the emerald blade shrank away again.

_Alright... He's smart, but predictable. Always attacks from behind..._

A flash of tactical inspiration struck him, and dread filled his mind. _Insane... But there's nothing else to do. He'll tire me out otherwise..._

He stood still, holding his sword loosely at his side. _Please let this work..._

A whisper of breath at his back... A _snap-hiss_...

Hayram ducked the incoming swipe for his neck and spun his own blade in a wide circle, hoping to take the creature's hand off. It missed the limb, instead cutting straight through the lightsaber hilt and causing the blade to dissipate, sparks sizzling in the darkness.

Hayram spun back, facing away from the Flesh Raider, and stabbed behind him; he felt the quick resistance as the blade bit into the beast's gut, turned and shoved it deeper, driving it to the hilt as warm blood trickled down his hands and wrists.

_Thank the Force..._

The Flesh Raider faded in the Force, falling back as its heart stopped, and suddenly the cave was silent again.

It was not all dark, however. The lightsaber hilt was illuminated in a cheery yellow-green glow brought on by the colored focusing crystal; Hayram's attack must have barely missed it. He approached the shining gem, plucked it from the ground and blinked at the warmth that suddenly spread through his hand and arm.

_Sorry about the lightsaber, my friend..._ The crystal seemed to glow brighter, as if... satisfied. _I guess this'll have to do._

He tucked the crystal away into his belt, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He reached out to the Force, found that the cave was no longer corrupted by the taint of the dark side. Whatever darkness had resided there had died with the Force-using Flesh Raider.

And there was no sign of Bengel Moore. One less spot for him to hide. _Still, if Bengel had to be either here or at the spot Orgus was looking into, he must be there. I have to get back to the twi'lek enclave. We can take him together._ His thoughts drifted to the Jedi body closer to the entrance. _Maybe we can end this madness._

Tired but elated at being alive, Hayram felt his way back out of the cave. He took his fellow Jedi's corpse with him, carrying it in his arms with all the dignity he could muster. Oddly enough, no Flesh Raider attacked him on his way back to the Temple.

Then he realized, with growing disbelief, that he'd killed their Alpha.


	5. Fire- Bengel Moore

**Fire- Bengel Moore**

_Finally_, he was here...

Bengel repressed the shudder of delight that raked up his spine as the twi'lek fools dragged his former master's unconscious body up the path to the Forge. They stared around at the cadre of Flesh Raiders he'd assembled, swallowing their worry and walking quickly as the beasts snapped at them playfully and hopped around, taunting them.

Idiots. Bengel had them entirely under control. Otherwise, they'd be dead already.

The twi'leks dumped Orgus Din at his feet, and Bengel smiled thinly. _Ah, Master. Still sticking to your old ideals to the bitter end. Still trusting._ He tapped Orgus with his foot. _No matter. We'll have a chance to have one last discussion soon enough..._

"It's done," the twi'lek lieutenant said nervously, looking around at the creatures staring at him hungrily. "N-now we can go... right?"

"Yes, yes," Bengel waved a hand impatiently. "Our accord is finished. We will no longer attack your village. It is under my protection. You have served your people well." He inclined his head. Fools they may be, they _did_ deserve to feel rewarded for their bravery.

Or perhaps it was cowardice. The two went hand-in-hand so often, after all.

"F-fine," the lieutenant stuttered. "Al-...alright. We'll just... g-go, now..."

The Flesh Raiders growled their disapproval as the four twi'leks began to back away from Bengel, back down the the entrance to the Forge. Raising a hand to his chin, he considered. _Hmm. I mustn't strain their resolve too much. They are still animals, after all. I must maintain their faith in me._ "Wait," he said clearly, and the twi'leks flinched, froze in their tracks.

He strode to them, looking each of them in the eye and measuring how much they trembled. The last shuddered so violently Bengel wondered if he would have a heart attack then and there. "You," he motioned with a finger. "Stay for another few minutes. You will be allowed to join your friends."

The twi'lek, normally a bright blue, paled white. "B-but-"  
"Stay," Bengel commanded, and the others backed away, down the slope and through the entrance cave. Just like that, they'd abandoned their brother to save their own skin.

Bengel sighed. _More evidence that what I do is necessary. True bravery... it is long gone. Even the Jedi have let fear into their hearts._ He gazed up at the Forge, from which he would construct the lightsabers for his army. _For a forest to grow anew, a fire must burn down the old._

The Flesh Raiders around them cackled madly in approval, saliva dripping from their mouths, and the twi'lek shook in terror.

It was then that Orgus stirred, opening his eyes and looking up at Bengel. "Master," Bengel greeted cordially.

"Bengel..." Orgus said slowly, straining to get to his knees. Bengel allowed him, calling the lightsaber at Orgus' belt to his hand as a precaution. "What... have you done?"

"Only what has been necessary, my old friend," Bengel said certainly. "In fact, I brought you here to be a part of the rebirth of the Jedi Order."

Orgus shook his head. "Oh, my student..." he murmured sadly. "I failed you so highly..."

A sudden spike of anger stabbed Bengel's heart. "You failed much more than me, _Master_," he snapped. "You failed the galaxy, and so did the entire Jedi Order."

"So that's why you try to destroy us?" Orgus blinked, uncomprehending, but of course he _couldn't_. He hadn't _been_ at Coruscant. "We haven't won the war, so we deserve to die?"

Bengel snorted. "Nonsense," he countered. "The Jedi Order will survive, but in a new form. A _better_ form. One unbound by petty morality or cowardice. One that can do what is _necessary_ to beat the Sith."

Orgus frowned. "Joining them is hardly beating them, Bengel."

The nautolan's eyes widened. "Oh, no, my old friend," he growled, leaning close. "In actuality, to defeat the Sith, we _must_ adopt their strengths."

"Do you hear yourself?" Orgus demanded, getting to his feet and clenching his fists. "You've betrayed everything you stood for! How many innocents have _died_ today, because of you, Bengel? How many who should have lived?"

"I take no pleasure in it," Bengel said truthfully. _Though the idiots like those twi'leks could be done away with..._ "But it must be done. You see, the Flesh Raiders are much like a fire. They breed quickly and are adept at killing... everything else." He turned away, looking at the Forge again. "When I spread the genes of the Force Sensitive among them, I will have an army capable of marching on your Temple. And when they are finished, cleansing its halls of..." He sniffed. "... Weakness, I will begin searching for new candidates in my new Jedi Order."

Orgus was speechless, and it pleased Bengel immensely. "_Your_ new _Order_?" he repeated. "Bengel..." He felt Orgus' presence combing his own, feeling the dark kernel that he had nurtured for so long. "You are truly lost..."

"To the contrary, Master," Bengel corrected, regarding him coolly once again. "I've finally found my purpose. I've found a way to beat the Sith. I've found a way to save the _galaxy_."

A loud howl broke him from his thoughts, as an eager Flesh Raider took a close snap at the twi'lek scout, who yelped and backed away. _Ah, yes._ "I thank you for staying," Bengel told the scout. "It will be over soon."

Fear spiked the Force, and Bengel drank it from the twi'lek's cup. "You s-said I'd-"

"I did," he agreed. "In death." He motioned with his hand, and the Flesh Raiders descended upon the unfortunate sentient. His dying screams echoed through the Forge valley, and Orgus closed his eyes, turning away, pain etched onto his features. "Don't worry, Master," Bengel said. "As I said, you're here as bait for your _new_ apprentice. Once he's gone, I'll have removed both of you from my plans and be allowed to finish my work here."

Orgus' eyes glinted like steel, as Bengel remembered them. "Get it over with," he grunted.

Bengel nodded and knocked his former master out with a quick strike to his temple; the old Jedi collapsed limply, and a Flesh Raider approached hopefully.

Bengal shoved it aside with the Force and it snarled but went back to the others, stripping the twi'lek of flesh. _I won't allow you to suffer that fate_, he mused as he stared at Orgus. _You deserve slightly better than that. I'll kill you myself._


	6. Ready- Hayram Antilles

**Ready- Hayram Antilles**

_"-are you doing?"_ A twi'lek, green-skinned, defending him from her people.

_ "What we have to."_

_ "I agreed to capture him, not-"_

_ "Padawan, we've been looking forward to having you here on Tython." _Arriving on a... ship. To the Jedi. The Jedi...

_ "Bengel Moore. My former Padawan." _A grizzled mentor... filled with regret.

_ "Maybe we'll see each other back at the Temple."_ A red-haired woman, eyes bright and sparkling with hope.

_"The circle closes. The end begins."_ A voice, deep and dark as death itself...

Hayram's eyes snapped open and he was on his feet in an instant, hands splayed, energy surging through him as memories flooded back. Returning to the twi'lek enclave, speaking to Ranna, the dart from the shadows...

The wall at his back, he scanned the room. The four twi'leks in the room stared at him, surprised at his recovery, and he narrowed his gaze at the lieutenant and his two lackeys. _They_ had stunned him, drugged him with that dart.

"You're okay!" Ranna exclaimed, equally shocked.

The lieutenant grimly raised a blaster...

Hayram shot out a hand, the Force surging through his arm and exploding with power; the lieutenant slammed into the far wall, blaster tumbling from his fingers, and the other two drew vibroblades.

It was over in seconds. Hayram disarmed them with quick, precise strikes to their throats and solar plexuses and when they had collapsed he bashed them over the head with their own weapons, knocking them out cold and staring at them in intense fury.

"What have you done?" he whispered darkly.

Ranna's voice trembled. "We-... I didn't mean for this to happen. The plan was for you to stay here... with us." She swallowed, cowered as he turned his gaze upon her. "Bengel Moore... he... he ordered us to bring you to him if we wanted our village to be spared. And... to give him your-"

Hayram was on her in an instant. "Where. Is. Orgus?" he growled lowly.

Ranna squeaked, "The Forge. My lieutenant took him there."

Hayram looked at the unconscious twi'lek in question and glared at the body. _It would be so easy to just... finish you._ "You almost ruined everything we worked for," he told her pointedly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I... we were just scared. There are too many Flesh Raiders and not enough Jedi. What were we supposed to do?"

"Never compromise," Hayram said. "Fight back. Don't give in just because things might get worse."

"Even if it meant we would die?" she questioned weakly.

He paused, stared into her wide, terrified eyes and saw not a new Matriarch but a young woman, out of her depth and thrust into a horrific situation that anyone would panic in. Despite it all, she had kept her people in her heart, trying to protect them even without knowing how.

His anger dissipated somewhat, and he frowned, gaze softening. "I can't forget this," he told her, "but I forgive you." It was something, and it was all he could give at the moment.

She seemed relieved. "I... thank you, Jedi Antilles. We... I can try to make it up to you-"

"But something will have to be done about your friends," he said, hefting the stolen vibroblade. Ranna sucked in a breath loudly as he considered. _No... I won't just... kill them. They... hadn't done anything. Not yet. And they were scared._

He felt sick at the thought of letting them go. "Make sure they're punished," he said quietly. "They attacked a Jedi and were going to kill me. That can't just... we were helping you people."

She swallowed, then nodded. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Yes. I will make sure of it."

"Good." He moved over to the abandoned droid lying on the deck where the stun bolt had hit it. A few rigs of its starter systems caused its eye to light and for T7 to right itself. "You okay, little guy?" he asked immediately.

The droid was still for a second, probably running diagnostics, then chirped excitedly. _T7= stunned! T7= confused._

Hayram sighed, running a hand over his face. "The... twi'leks attacked us. They were going to ally with Bengel Moore to secure their safety."

Slowly, T7 swiveled its head to regard Ranna, then the bodies on the ground. It extended its shock ray, a low _bloop_ emanating from it, and shutters closed over its eye, as though it were narrowing. _T7= not getting caught again._

Hayram would have chuckled at the little droid's actions were it not for their situation. "Keep an eye on them," he agreed. "I'll be back after I get you a blaster, and then we're going after Master Orgus and Bengel."

T7 asked, _Jedi+T7= need help?_

"No time," Hayram shook his head. "But I do need you. I don't think I can do this alone. You with me?"

The droid's response was instant and relieving. _T7+Jedi= heroes!_

Despite himself, Hayram smiled. "That's the spirit." He stood to make for the doorway of the enclave.

"Wait!" Ranna called, grabbing his arm gently. "What are you going to do? You can't expect to face a dark Jedi without others of your Order!"

"What do you suggest I do?" he snapped at her. "Stay and wait? Master Orgus needs help. I can... _feel_ it."

Ranna's head fell. "I... very well. I can't keep you. If there's anything I can do..." She trailed off, and Hayram felt a pang of regret for her feelings.

"I'm sorry things worked out this way," he amended lamely.

She nodded mutely.

A sudden thought occurred to him as he regarded the vibroblade in his hand. That kind of weapon was heavier than a saber, and would put him at a disadvantage if he was going to face a dark Jedi. _Right. Because that's what I'm about to do..._ He stared outside at the sun, starting its descent of the evening. _What a day..._

Even so, he needed a weapon. A real one, something that could go toe-to-toe with Moore. And there was only one thing that could accomplish that. He patted the crystal in his belt, felt the warmth through the cloth.

"Actually," he said slowly, resolve growing within him, "I need a workbench and some components." He looked at Ranna seriously. "Please. It's important."

She stared back, and Hayram saw hopes break in her eyes. Then she nodded and said, "Come with me."

**(O)(O)(O)**

The workbench was mostly cleared. All that remained was a small assembly of parts and components, most of which Hayram had assembled in the last three hours. It was a hasty job, and the pieces would construct a simple weapon, but it would have to do.

An emitter matrix. A handgrip with miniature power cells adorning the casing. An activation stud. A small pommel. A ringed top. An intricate maze of wiring. An emerald crystal, taken from the lightsaber of a dying Jedi, glowing in the dim light of the small garage in which he had worked.

It was time. _Not how I imagined it going, but when do things work out as planned?_ He sighed, rubbed his hands to soothe the soreness in them, knelt at the workbench. _This might be crazy..._ He stopped and snorted. _What hasn't been?_

He closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, feeling his way up onto the workbench and into the very _atoms_ of the components. This was it.

"I'm ready," he whispered automatically, and began.


	7. Omega- Hayram Antilles

**Omega- Hayram Antilles**

It was quiet, on the path to the Forge. Hayram could sense darkness up ahead, could feel Bengel Moore's presence swarmed with those of the Flesh Raiders. He could feel the danger he was walking into. The little droid beside him was nervous, beeping worriedly every few seconds.

Yet Hayram wasn't afraid, only determined. Grim, maybe. But certain in his movements.

This was it. He had to end the threat here and now. No others could die. _I won't allow it._

The sun was setting in the distance, settling over the high mountains, casting the Forge valley in a gentle orange glow. The wind drifted lazily through the grass, easing him forward with a nudge at his back. Tython, he mused distantly, seemed like it was ready to be done with Bengel as well.

"Some day, huh?" he muttered.

T7 whistled in agreement next to him, and Hayram smiled down at it. The droid had come so far, hadn't abandoned him even after everything that had happened.

"Thanks for coming, T7," he said earnestly.

_T7+Jedi=heroes! _the droid exclaimed. _T7+Jedi=save the Temple. T7=glad._

"I'll be glad too," he affirmed. "Hmm. Wonder if backup might not have been such a bad idea..." He'd reached the end of the path to the Forge, saw the swarm of Flesh Raiders that growled and snapped ahead, saw Orgus Din unconscious at the steps of the Forge, saw Bengel Moore waiting patiently for him, as if... expecting.

Even with all of it, Hayram was not afraid. Something shifted in the Force, a powerful weight that sank into his soul and poured something out, into his mind's eye.

Suddenly he _saw_...

He saw Bengel Moore, lying at his feet, a lightsaber falling from his fingers as he sighed a last breath. Hayram stood above him, triumphant.

Was is a vision? Some premonition? Or something he hoped would come to pass? Hayram decided it didn't matter.

"At last you've arrived," Bengel sniffed when Hayram reached the steps to the Forge. The Flesh Raiders snarled hungrily but stayed back, clearly under the madman's control.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting," Hayram replied heavily, hand drifting to the hilt at his belt.

Bengel noticed, and frowned. "Not at all," he informed Hayram. "However... you have most certainly denied me the progress I'd hoped to accomplish. I hope you understand that this cannot continue."  
"Of course not."

"At least you're not trembling in fear. You shouldn't; this end is only a new beginning."  
Hayram looked up at the Forge. "An army of lightsaber-wieleding Flesh Raiders?" He shook his head. "I don't know if you're insane or... actually, no, you are insane."

"You may think so," Bengel allowed. "But I'm only doing what is necessary."

"None of this was necessary," Hayram retorted. "Only the deranged delusions of a madman, clawing at scraps of purpose." A flicker of anger flashed across Bengel's eyes, and Hayram smiled. "Touched a nerve there, did I?"

"You know nothing of me," the nautolan whispered. "You know _nothing_ of Coruscant or the Sith!"

"You don't think I know you?" Hayram asked. "I can _feel_ you, Bengel. It's what I do. I _know_ people." He closed his eyes, took a breath. "I can feel the anger in you. The rage at being attacked. Betrayal. You think you were left behind by the Jedi. You think they failed you."

Bengel gripped a lightsaber in his right hand, clenching it tightly.

"No..." Hayram whispered, the answer coming to him in a stream of the Force. "No... you _know_ they didn't. Deep down... No, this is all for you. You didn't feel... _worthy._" He opened his eyes, withdrew his own weapon. "You came here and started this to give yourself purpose." A spark of fury smoldered in his own heart. "And people _died_ because of it."

"People died because they were _weak_," Bengel hissed, starting to pace and circle Hayram, who copied his movements. "_I_ can rebuild the Jedi! _I_ can make them what they _need_ to be to stop the Sith!"

"You can't," Hayram corrected darkly. "Because you're already one of them."

Bengel's fist sprouted a bar of yellow plasma, and Hayram activated his own lightsaber, the emerald blade springing to life brightly in his hand.

"I will make sure that you die painfully," Bengel promised.

Hayram raised his lightsaber. "No," he replied heavily. "You won't."  
They charged and swung their blades at the same time, green and yellow meeting in a fiery clash of energy before they danced away again, darting back and forward and striking quickly. The lightsaber was light and fluid in Hayram's hands, easily able to keep up with the intense pace of Bengel's strikes.

He blocked a blow to his knee, then a chop to his head that allowed him to get a lunge in that was turned aside; he dodged the retaliatory swing for his flank and aimed for Bengel's shoulder, then the other, smashing down blow after blow. _Have to keep this up, have to keep him defensive..._

Then something in Bengel changed, and the dark side chilled the air.

The fallen Jedi let out a hoarse cry of anger and despair and a violent Force Push sent Hayram flying back to land on the slope of steps up to the Forge. His back ached but he reacted, pushing himself up into a reverse flip that landed him on his feet; Bengel drove his lightsaber into the ground where Hayram had been a second before and charged again, a mad light igniting in his eyes.

"You won't steal my destiny!" he snarled, making a vicious lunge for Hayram's heart, who swept it away and kept backing up the steps, maintaining the high ground to better defend himself.

"It's not your destiny!" he called back. "Only a nightmare." He narrowed his eyes as he blocked a rushed jab for his thigh. "How can you justify everyone you killed? Sacrificed on the altar of your 'destiny'?"

"They were _weak_," Bengel repeated. "They exist to _serve_."

"There you go," Hayram sneered. "Now you _sound_ like a Sith, too."

His taunt only increased Bengel's rage, but the nautolan had no idea what he was doing to the battle. For every pulse of anger that coursed through him, Hayram felt it as well, and it fed his own righteous fury.

It was a dangerous line, toeing the edge of the dark side.

For every strong smash against his green blade, Hayram returned with a strike just as powerful, and Bengel's eyes widened when the Padawan leapt high and landed behind Bengel, taking the low ground purposefully and starting a chain of attacks that backed the fallen Jedi up to the Forge. Hayram was relentless, swinging and stabbing mercilessly at his foe.

Left, right, high, left, lunge.

"You're _evil_, Bengel," Hayram growled as they reached the top, and he slammed his lightsaber onto Bengel's; they clashed, froze, both men pushing against one another in a contest of brute strength. "You don't deserve to live for what you've done."

"Fool," Bengel snapped back, but his eyes had widened in the realization that while he was losing energy, Hayram was _gaining_ it. "You can't stop me! You can't stop my destiny!"

"I already am!" the Padawan shouted, and he shoved against Bengel's saber; the lock broke and the nautolan stumbled back, off-balance, and it was all the Hayram needed.

He descended upon Bengel like a Corellian Eagle, attacking quickly and forcefully. His hands and arms moved of their own accord as he fixed his vision of his enemy, focusing, the end in sight, the objective at hand.

His green blade seemed to be everywhere at once, and Bengel couldn't keep up.

A wide swipe caught Bengel's yellow blade and dragged it away from it torso, extending his arm, and Hayram ducked his own lightsaber underneath Bengel's and cut it cleanly through the nautolan's limb; the arm fell away, still clutching the lightsaber, and Bengel howled in shock and agony, dropping to fall against the steps leading down to the valley.

Hayram stood above him, lightsaber held loosely at his side, hand tightening around the hilt. "Where did all your strength go, Bengel?" he asked derisively, and kicked him down the steps to the valley floor below.

Bengel Moore landed in a crumpled heap of robes and flesh, groaning as he cradled the stump of his arm. He spotted his lightsaber in his detached hand, crawled for it. Hayram called the hilt into the air and sliced it in two with a precise flick of his own saber and watched as the fallen Jedi turned to stare at him, uncomprehending.

The Flesh Raiders had quieted, seeing their leader so powerless. T7 had its blaster out and ready, but was watching the scene as well.

This was it. The moment of justice. The moment Hayram had been waiting for every since he'd heard of the name Bengel Moore.

"I should kill you," he said quietly.

Bengel swallowed, the darkness around him fading as fear took hold of him. "You... you have defeated me." He blinked, shook his head. "I... did not think it was possible..." He looked back up at his defeater, seemed to recognize something. "Oh... I understand now." A distorted smile eased up onto his lips. "_This_ is what I was meant for. I'm meant to be your first challenge." The smile widened. "And when I've been dealt with, I will have prepared you for the trials ahead. You, young Jedi... _You_ will defeat the Sith... I merely didn't see it."

Silence, as rage bubbled in Hayram's chest.

Then he kicked Bengel in the face, breathing heavily over him and glorifying in the way the bastard groaned. "You think this is a game?" he demanded hotly. "You still think you have a destiny? You _still_ think after all you've done, you-" He growled and kicked him again, raising his lightsaber.

It was unthinkable; Bengel had murdered so many, and all he could see was his own misery, his own defeat, and had then searched for a way in which he _won_. Pathetic. Selfish. Despicable. It made Hayram's blood boil.

"I should kill you," he repeated. "I _want_ to kill you, Bengel Moore... It would be so easy..."

"Do it, my young Jedi," Bengel said gently. "I will not resist. This is what is _meant_ to happen."  
"Stop _saying_ that!" he snapped, grabbing the nautolan by his robes and shoving him back.

It was then that Bengel started to chuckle. "Look at you," he crowed. "Already so full of _fire_ and _darkness_." The chuckle turned into a laugh. "I was right, in a way, you know. The Jedi won't be the undoing of the Sith. That'll be you, boy." His black eyes gleamed in the twilight. "And we both know that you're _not_ a Jedi."

The strangled cry that tore from Hayram's throat sounded like it belonged to someone else, but before he could stop himself he had flung his arms forward and cannoned Bengel into a boulder; the nautolan's head snapped against the stone and he fell forward. Not dead. Unconscious.

And Hayram stood there, lightsaber lit in his hand. He looked at it, eyes widening, then threw the saber away. It landed near the pack of Flesh Raiders, who hissed and scattered away into the trees around them.

Hayram fell to his knees, breathing ragged as T7 approached him cautiously. _Jedi=okay?_

"I'm... fine, T7," Hayram lied. _I was so angry... Force, I was so angry..._

_Jedi don't get angry..._

"Go see if Master Orgus is alright," he ordered the droid, which rolled off obediently.

Hayram sat there in the dying light, staring at Bengel Moore as the madman's last words echoed in his ears.

_"And we both know that you're _not_ a Jedi..."_

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** Hello there, readers. I wanted to thank you all for coming this far and I hope you've enjoyed the fic up to this point. As it stands, I've got plenty of vignettes planned and I'm going to go through the whole Jedi Knight story up until the final confrontation with You-Know-Who. I hope you'll stick around for the ride. Also, an extra thank-you to those of you who reviewed: it really makes my day to hear such compliments. If you haven't yet, I'd really like to hear from you and know what you think about to story, so feel free to send a review my way. I try to respond to all of them, no matter how short.

In addition, I will be taking vignette prompts from reviewers and I'll mention where the prompt came from if I decide to use it. I can also take suggestions for POVs that haven't been encountered yet.

That's the note. Once again, I hope you're all enjoying the fic. Next up is a POV we haven't seen before: everyone's favorite sleeveless-vest-wearing Jedi Master. Until next time...


	8. Guidance- Satele Shan

**Guidance- Satele Shan**

Satele Shan was seldom surprised, yet when the newest Padawan on Tython came to the Temple, Master Orgus and Bengel Moore in tow, she experienced the feeling anew and peered into the Force and watched as the Flesh Raiders retreated.

Just like that. The darkness lifted from the Force, and the beasts fled without the direction of their master. Others might call it a miracle. Satele took one look at the young Jedi and knew it was his doing. Somehow.

_This will change everything_, she realized as she watched Jedi gather around the newcomers, take Bengel to a medical center and swarm Orgus and his new Padawan with questions. She took a breath, brushed her presence over the Padawan's in observation.

It was not what she expected. There was light in him, certainly, a pure flow of illumination that felt warm to her touch. His core was... conflicted, however. A star stained by tendrils of shadow. Satele dug deeper, seeking to find that conflict.

The Padawan looked up to her on the second level of the Temple's main chamber, locked eyes in a way that said he knew what she was doing, and she blinked, caught. Few could detect her presence when she wished it to be hidden. She reached out again and focused on the Jedi's power.

It was... difficult to comprehend. Raw, but untrained. Potentially limitless, like a vast, immeasurable ocean that Satele could only glimpse and never fully see. A great contradiction to most Jedi, whose power lay within a discernible realm. To have someone so young and so powerful...

She needed to speak with him.

After informing another Padawan that she would be in her quarters and wished to speak with Hayram Antilles, she retreated there, kneeling on the meditation carpet in the center of the room and opening herself to the Force, letting the freshly cleansed rivers of energy flow through her. Satele sighed contentedly; it had been a travesty to have darkness on Tython at all, and she was very grateful that it had ended.

After Coruscant, after the war, after all the horrors she had witnessed, Tython had become a place of refuge and peace. She was relieved that it would stay as such. Even Jedi Masters, she knew, needed solace at times.

The Force shifted and she opened her eyes to see Padawan Antilles at her doorway, hovering between entering and not. She inclined her head with a soft smile. "Padawan," she greeted. "Please, come in."

Antilles moved to stand in front of her, and she gestured with a hand. Slowly, he took a seated position opposite her.

He looked tired, but that was understandable. And he wore a neutral expression that most would assume normal, but Satele didn't need the Force to sense the tension in the room or in his body: regret. He was an emotionally-driven one, this Padawan. A danger.

"Master," Antilles said carefully. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did," she confirmed, and started to examin him. He was well-built, likely training to be of a physical, lightsaber-oriented discipline before he came to Tython. His robes were dirty and scorched in several places, but overall he was healthy and unwounded, which spoke well of his abilities. She let her gaze fall on the lightsaber at his belt. "May I?" she asked, pointing to the weapon.

He handed it to her, looking satisfied at his work, before explaining, "I had to make it in a hurry. The crystal is Knight Toth's. The Selkath I... brought back from the Flesh Raider cave. I wondered if he wanted it cremated with his body or..."

Satele was examining the hilt while listening to him, studying the design. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he'd made it quickly; the casing was welded hastily and pieced together, and there was little aesthetic value to the object. The parts seemed to be made of second-rate materials, and the pommel was slightly large for the rest of the handle.

Yet when she tapped the activation stud and a brilliant emerald blade lanced out from the emitter, she waved it experimentally and found no flaws. The blade remained whole, the weight balanced, the hilt cool to the touch.

It was a marvel that he had built it in such a short time. "How did you construct this so easily?" she wondered.

He cleared his throat a bit sheepishly. "I've studied how to built them for years, Master," he answered. "I've always wanted to make my own, so... it was like I'd done it before. Dozens of times. I just hadn't had an opportunity yet."

Satele shut off the lightsaber and the blade retracted smoothly. "Why has it fascinated you?"

He shrugged. "It just... always seemed like a personal thing Jedi had. We don't keep regular possessions, so... I felt like building a lightsaber would give me a sort of... identity."

She nodded in understanding. "In any case, Padawan, for the materials you used, this is an excellent lightsaber. It is my belief that you should keep it, and the crystal, if you feel that it is acceptable to you."

As she handed it back to him he said, "But Knight Toth-"

"Would not have begrudged you his crystal," she said gently. "I assure you. I knew him in life. You feel a connection to it, do you not?" Antilles nodded. "Then it is yours. You've already used it well. Although you may want to... finish it, in the future." She smiled, but instead of giving one in return Antilles simple reattached the saber to his belt and waited.

Satele took this as a sign to continue. "What you have done is remarkable, young one. Few Jedi could have the strength at your level to defeat a dark Jedi, let alone end the entire Flesh Raider assault." He didn't respond; she wasn't sure what to make of that. At least, she reflected, he was not foolhardy or arrogant. As a final test she proffered, "You single-handedly saved the Jedi Temple and the twi'lek enclave. It is an incredible feat."  
This, here, was the moment of truth. His response would dictate how Satele measured him in every future encounter. Brash, and she'd try to ensure he didn't become reckless. Self-satisfied, and he'd be in danger of corruption from arrogance. Pride, and a similar fate might await him if he became dark.

Instead of any of those things, however, Antilles merely muttered, "Thank you," and stared back at her neutrally.

_An acknowledgment. Interesting._

"It was only what any Jedi would do," he added after a moment. "The choice was easy."

"Then you have a superb moral compass, it seems," Satele smiled slightly. "I've heard of what else you've done, as well. Sparing the twi'leks after they captured you. Aiding their camp against the Flesh Raiders. Bengel Moore is alive." At the last point Satele felt a spike, a deeper regret and a hint of disappointment.

"Master," Antilles interrupted politely, "why are you telling me this?"

_And he gets to the point. Focused. Direct._ It reminded Satele of herself, long ago. "To be honest, Padawan, I wanted to know more about you. Most Jedi in your situation would be... peaceful, but pleased as well. Yet I feel the opposite from you." She let the unspoken question hang.

A long silence stretched between them, and Satele waited patiently. When he was ready, he would talk.

"I always thought it was funny," he spoke after a while, "how much time a Jedi spends dwelling on feelings, since we're not supposed to have them."

She raised a brow. "An interesting observation. Not entirely true, however."

"No?"

"Not at all. Compassion and empathy are needed attributes for a good Jedi," she corrected. "How else would we be driven to protect and serve?"

He considered that for a while. "Then the trick is only letting the good ones have the light of day."

"Perhaps. You seem to wear your heart on your sleeve, if you pardon the expression."

He waited for something, probably a reprimand. "You're not going to scold me?"

"What good does it do if you already know it's coming?" she asked seriously. "Padawan, every Jedi, myself included, struggles with emotion. Some more than others. I can _feel_ the conflict within you. And shame." His eyes flicked down. "And I called you here to reassure you that merely because you struggle does not mean you failed."

"I was close," he whispered, and Satele heard the darkness in the admission.

"Close to what?" she probed carefully.

Antilles said, "Killing Bengel."

_Ah_, she thought, as the pieces clicked into place. "I see," she mused. There were a number of things she could say, but for a moment she sat there, watching the emotions play across the Padawan. _He's so... volatile. Dangerous. But... good._

The question was what to do with him.

Logic dictated that he should be watched carefully and ordered to meditate in the Temple for a number of weeks while he recovered, and then assigned to a master more suited than Orgus Din for caution and emotional understanding. But Satele was a mature, experienced woman who had lived more in her life than most sentients did in two, and she had learned that instinctual feelings were more often right than wrong.

And at this moment, she felt that to send him out of the action would be a mistake.

A Jedi like Hayram Antilles would chafe under boredom, and resentment would grow. Satele had seen it happen many times. But in the galaxy, learning and experiencing and facing test, he would grow. He would become better than he was.

He might also become worse, but it was a risk Satele felt was necessary.

"But you didn't," she said at last, and Antilles looked up at her, disbelieving. "You did not kill Bengel Moore, even if you wanted to. Even if every cell in your body and screamed that you murder him, your heart ultimately dictated your actions. Such a struggle is one many Jedi would have failed."

She gave him a smile. "Hayram," she addressed informally, "there comes a time when every Jedi is forced to confront who they really are and make a choice that will decide their fate. I don't think you made that choice today. Instead, I think it was... a premonition, if you will. A test. And I believe that when the time comes, you will remember today and make the right decision."

"But how do you know the right choice?" he asked. "How do you know what justice is and what... murder is?"

"You will know," she insisted. "You have to believe in yourself, just as we all must."

Silence filled her quarters again, but Antilles' presence seemed to calm and peacefully settle. After a while he returned her smile. "Thank you, Master," he said sincerely.

"Of course," she replied. "If you should ever need guidance, do not hesitate to speak with me." Her smile crooked at the edge. "No matter where in the galaxy we send you."

He blinked, raised an eyebrow. "Master?"

"You'll most likely be sent to Coruscant after your Knighting ceremony," she continued with a glint of humor. "Try to act surprised."

Antilles opened his mouth a few times and shut it after no sound came out, swallowing and managing, "I... don't know what to say."

Satele nodded. "That, Knight Antilles, is why I believe you are ready."

He didn't quite understand, and how could he, being so young and inexperienced. But Satele knew he would, in time, and that was enough.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** I'd like to again thank all of you for your reviews and reading. Truly, the reviews do inspire me and are helpful when writing the new chapters. If you like something in the story, let me know!

At this point, you will all probably be pleased to know that we are finished with Tython. Next stop is Coruscant. I'd like to point out that flashpoints (unless I change my mind) will not be covered, as they are not part of the core Knight storyline and don't quite fit (except for the Revan ones, but even then, it's not necessary). As it is, I already have plenty of story to work through, so flashpoints won't be added.

So you all know what's coming, the POVs for the next few chapters are likely going to be as follows: Lord Tarnis, Hayram Antilles, Kira Carsen, T7-01, Kira Carsen, Hayram Antilles. They should constitute the Coruscant missions and ship introduction, and wrap up the prologue to this story, after which I will launch into Act 1. I should mention that none of these are definite and I reserve the right to change my vignette lineup at any time.

Also, I'd like to make a statement regarding the POVs in case anyone wondered. Hayram is obviously the main character, and many chapters will be from his viewpoint. Many more will be from the POV of his crew members, like Kira and T7. Even with all of that, my goal is to try to get as many side character POVs as possible for vignettes, as you can see with Lord Tarnis getting a chapter up next. I have Governor Saresh, Agent Galen, Var'Suthra and Watcher One planned, and a reviewer mentioned a redeemed Lord Praven, which is an interesting idea.

As a final note, I would like to repeat that I am taking vignette prompts if you guys have them. It's not a guarantee that I'll use it, but if I do I'll credit you in the A/N.

Once again, thanks for reading and please review!


	9. Cloak- Lord Tarnis

**Cloak- Lord Tarnis**

A shadow moved in the streets of Coruscant, deep in the territory of the Migrant Merchant's Guild.

It was disgusting down here; rubble and debris from the sacking of the planet years earlier mixed with newer garbage, creating a habitat in which the homeless and desperate slept. Gang members eyed the shadow from their posts on the streets and toted their blasters, considering calling out a threat. After all, the dark-cloaked figure might have something valuable on him.

They thought better of it and lived.

The shadow passed by a young girl, crying on a corner and mumbling about her parents. Her sadness punctuated the air like a fog, and the shadow sniffed and moved on. Pathetic, really. The Capitol of the Republic, this planet, and yet many of its citizens suffered the brutality and harms inflicted by the scum of the galaxy.

One more reason the Empire would eventually dominate, once his device was activated and Coruscant was ripe for the picking.

Lord Tarnis would never gloat about it outside of Sith space, where no one would care to admire his work, but his Planet Prison was the greatest invention he'd ever conceived. In a single strike, the Galactic Republic would be defenseless against an incoming Imperial assault, and then he would stride into the Senate building, march up to the Chancellor and slit his throat.

Imperial supremacy would reign, as it always should have.

Tarnis approached the meeting spot, noting with irritation that the gang member was late. No matter. One more delay would not cost much. Even with the Jedi here, nothing would stop him. He was too close to fail now.

Previously, a togruta Master and her Padawan had found General Var'Suthra and he discussing the Planet Prison, asked if there was any evidence of Sith intervention. Tarnis had almost laughed; his presence was so shielded that the Jedi couldn't sense him at all. _Weakness. Another impurity to cleanse._

While the Jedi's arrival had halted his immediate activation of the weapon, it had only required a minor restructuring of the plan. Step one was arriving now, in the form of a hurried guild member.

"S-sorry, sir," the young man said, panting and wiping sweat from his brow. "They sent me as soon as-"

"Be silent, whelp," Lord Tarnis dismissed lowly. "This is what you need." He withdrew a holodisk from his robes and handed it to the boy. "Take it to your superiors. They know what to do. Now get out of my sight."

The boy left immediately, glad to be away from the shadow.

It was going to be very simple; the boy would take the holodisk and be mugged in the streets by another, Vistis, an arrangement Tarnis had provided for. Once that occurred, the rodian would no doubt be caught by the authorities, and the plans for the Planet Prison would be safely in Republic hands. The entire ordeal would likely take several hours, perhaps even a day, and the Jedi would insist in getting involved. They'd be down here, in Guild territory, and by that time Tarnis would be "kidnapped", long gone.

And then they would die. All of them, and in doing so they would pave the road for the return of the Sith Empire to Coruscant.

Lord Tarnis watched the boy go, musing idly about the Darth title he would receive after he executed the Supreme Chancellor. _Darth Tormentus? Darth Nox? Darth Vilon?_

He exited the gang territory quickly enough, his mere presence powerful enough to deter any muggings or assaults from upstart gangsters. Then he called a taxi, taking it to 500 Republica and parking near the Senate Tower and climbing out after stripping away his outer robe. Blending into the streets of crowded politicians and rich fools, Tarnis looked the part of military scientist, uniform and cropped hair and all.

In moments, a Sith would be striding into one of the most heavily-defended places in the galaxy. _Pitiful. Wretched. _Tarnis would have spat if he could have. The people around him were particularly disgusting in their weakness, walking about discussing politics or various inconsequential dramas while wearing expensive clothes that they bought with stolen money. In the Sith Empire, those who were rich earned it, and those who were servants _dressed_ like it. Power was success, just as it was in nature.

The Republic was weak for its defiance of such a simple law. Tarnis would see that it fell for certain this time.

Perhaps then, his father would accept him for who he was, despite their differences.

Reaching out with the Force, he felt the obnoxious, bright stars of Jedi above him in the Tower and frowned. _More of them. Another pair, another master and student. As if that will stop me._

Moving into the Tower and then passing through the Grand Hall, Tarnis made his way to the briefing room where General Var'Suthra waited. The old Calamari nodded as he entered, and Tarnis relished the thought of revealing his treachery to the General here and now, and _squeezing _the life from his body, then banished the idea. _Not yet. Soon enough, however..._ "Doctor Tarnis," he greeted. "It's good that you arrived when you did. We have some bad news."

Tarnis played the part and looked shocked. "What? What is it?"

The Calamari placed his hands on his hips, looking bothered. _Poor fool. What wonderful entertainment this is..._ "The plans for your project have been stolen."

"Stolen?" Tarnis exclaimed. "That's impossible!"

He took note of the Jedi in the room: the togruta from before, and her Padawan, and then two male humans, the older the Master, the younger likely the student. They all observed him, and Tarnis could feel their presences brushing at his, scanning... and missing what was right in front of them.

"We believe the Migrant Merchant's Guild is responsible," Var'Suthra continued.

"This is odd. Strange," the togruta pondered. "Why would common criminals want something like this?"

"How would they even know about it?" her Padawan countered.

"I'm still not sure what it is," the younger male said, staring at Tarnis curiously.

Tarnis took it upon himself to answer. "It's the most peaceful military weapon ever devised! It changes a planet's atmosphere, turning it into an enormous ion cannon. It can strip away a world's defenses without a single casualty." He sighed with the right amount of drama and sadness. "It was going to save so many lives..."

The Jedi still looked at him, as though searching for something, and Tarnis resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. _How humorous. He suspects something..._ He kept his barriers in place, preventing them from reading anything but his cover thoughts.

"You're right. I don't think the Guild would normally be involved," the older male said firmly. "Something... dark is at play."

"It's what I felt, Orgus," the togruta added. "Whatever it is, it's happening soon."

_You have no idea,_ Tarnis agreed.

"Then you and I will speak to the Chancellor," Orgus decided. "I need you," he addressed his student, "to work with the general and doctor here and find those plans. We can't allow them to be sold or fall into the wrong hands."

"Kira, stay with them," her Master ordered. "Help in any way you can. We'll be back soon." The two Masters left the briefing room, and Tarnis and the Jedi still stared, locked in an unseen battle.

_He knows_, a voice whispered in the back of Tarnis' mind. _Impossible, but... he knows. He senses something. He's more powerful than you anticipated..._

Tarnis said smoothly, "Perhaps we can work together and find a solution. We need those plans back if I am to complete my test of the weapon."

"We'll do all we can, Doctor," Var'Suthra assured him.

"Yes," the Jedi affirmed, finally taking his eyes off Tarnis, who almost breathed a sigh of relief. "We will. We'll get those plans back for you and make sure nothing happens to Coruscant."

Perceptive as he was, Tarnis recognized the double meaning of the last words. "I would be most grateful, Jedi," he stated, even as a cold, focused anger built inside him. He smiled thinly. "I'm certain you'll be most helpful to me." _Once I've finished with the Planet Prison, I will ensure that you die among the rest of your kind. Better men than you have tried to kill me._

_ And if I could survive my own father, I can easily outlast you._


	10. Two- Hayram Antilles

**Two- Hayram Antilles**

The Doctor had quickly been kidnapped, and Hayram's mind swam with possibilities as he stepped out of the elevator to the hangar, T7 trailing behind him.

_If the Sith are here, then they have to be behind Tarnis' kidnapping. It makes no sense; why take the doctor if they already had the plans? And something was wrong with Tarnis. He... felt wrong. Off. Like a fake. Was he lying? Maybe, but I can't believe the other Jedi didn't feel-_

He was cut short when something red-haired and female charged into his midsection, knocking them both to ground just as a blaster bolt burned into the wall where Hayram's head had been. He and his tackler came to a rest a few feet away and he rolled to his knees, lightsaber drawn.

"Don't even think about it!" the woman snapped as she too got to her knees. "Don't even try to stand up right now. I'm saving your life, dummy."

Hayram started in recognition. "You're the Padawan from Tython. And from the meeting with-"

"Kira Carsen," she said quickly, scurrying behind a counter for protection. "Guess this is the most regular meeting we're going to get."

"Guess so," he concurred bluntly, and followed her, the droid taking a position behind him. "So. You called?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Har har," she muttered, taking a peek from behind their counter. "Guild thugs have Doctor Tarnis in there... or they did." She shook her head. "I can't sense him."

Hayram couldn't either. That could only be bad.

"I came here with a squad of security officers," she explained, then frowned deeply. "They... well, what's left of them are over there." She pointed to the side of the hangar, where a trio of Republic guards were pinned down behind a barricade of crates. They were being hailed with blaster fire just as Hayram and Kira were, supplied by almost a dozen rifle-toting Guild gangsters, all of whom were clearly aiming for killing effect.

"Well." Hayram lit his lightsaber, holding it loosely in his hand. "That's not okay."

"Which part, the shooting or the shooting with illegal rifles?" Kira shot back with a small smirk.

"The killing," he said seriously, and the smirk left her face. _Alright. They're serious. So am I. You don't kill for credits._ "I'm going out there. T7, back me up." He began to stand-

"Slow down," Kira urged, and he complied for the moment. "Force, you're definitely the blunt instrument type."

"Ouch," he said, the comment causing him to smile a little, despite the situation.

It was only possible because of his discussion with Master Shan. Even now, he could feel the cold rage burning at the sight of the thugs who had gunned down people who didn't deserve it, but it was contained, controlled. A weapon he could direct against those he wanted when he wished it.

Maybe it still wasn't the behavior of a Jedi, but it was what he could manage for now. _I will not let what happened with Bengel Moore happen again_, he thought, as he imagined the coming fight.

"You'll be gunned down if you attack them alone." Kira tapped the module at her belt, then grasped her double-bladed lightsaber. "I have a stealth field generator. While you're out there waving your saber around and _asking_ them to shoot at you, I'll sneak around and we can take them from both sides."

Hayram hesitated. "This isn't exactly a place for a Padawan..." He stopped as her eyes glared at him, and within seconds he found the wisdom to reconsider. "Er... right. If you're alright entering combat like this..." He trailed off, wondering if she would be able to use lethal force.

Something hard entered the Padawan's eyes. "I'll be fine," she said firmly. "Besides, I can't have you stealing my show." And she tapped the module at her belt and flashed from existence. Hayram only felt her there beside him through the Force.

T7 _twooed_ carefully at his side. "Alright, it's our turn," Hayram told the droid. "We take these guys down and rescue our doctor. Ready?"

The droid's blaster popped from its chassis, as did the tow cable and stun ray attachments concealed in its armor.

Hayram grinned, and launched himself from cover.

Immediately he was swarmed by blaster bolts that streamed toward his body at all levels. Quickly he began to spin his lightsaber, creating an intricate fan of green flame that parried or blocked the shots. T7 took cover behind Hayram's legs, using moments of opportunity to move out and fire a cluster of his own shots at their attackers.

Hayram concentrated, speeding up his defense and taking a step forward. The thugs shouted and redoubled their efforts, and the Republic guards in the corner of the hangar used the chance to begin to return fire as well; the gangsters realized that they were being attacked from two sides and backed away, moving to the relative cover of the ship docked in the bay, using its landing gear as a defensive shield.

Even so, they began to ignore the officers and focus on Hayram exclusively. "Kill the Jedi!" one of them, probably the leader, growled to the others, and suddenly a dozen bolts at once increased to _dozens_.

Hayram closed his eyes and dropped into the Force.

It was like watching the scene in slow motion. He could recognize each gleaming red shot, project its path, and then tilt his saber _just so_ in order to barely intercept it, diverting its path into the ceiling and floor instead of his chest or head. He swung his blade in circular patterns, creating the biggest possible shield with the saber and focused, intent on one objective.

He took another step forward.

The thugs kept firing and Hayram refused to back down but began to feel his arms tiring from their constant vigilance. "Kira!" he called out. "Any time would be _great_!"

On cue, twin amethyst blades sprang from a hilt that appeared in mid air, along with the Padawan as she landed in between two thugs and took them down with clean strikes.

Instantly the tide turned.

Caught off guard, the thugs whirled to fire on the new threat and Hayram seized the chance, gathering the Force and leaping across the hangar to land next to the thug leader, stabbing into his heart with his blade and wrenching it out immediately, spinning to decapitate the next gang member.

_Four down, eight to go._ Hayram continued the spin until he stood in the middle of the formation just as Kira did, and the two Jedi stood back to back as the remaining criminals took aim.

It was over in a moment; at such a close range the bolts were reflected back to their owners easily and the combined efforts of T7 and the Republic officers ensured that no thug escaped. By the time five seconds had passed Hayram and Kira were the only two left standing in the formation, entirely unharmed.

She flashed one of what Hayram was learning were her trademark smirks. "Heh. _That's_ why two Jedi are better than one."

"I see your point," he bantered lightly, looking to the control station for the bay. "Whoever is left is probably in there," he pointed.

"I'll race you," Kira quipped, and vanished.

"You're having way too much fun with that," he mentioned, but she was already gone and he shook his head, amused.

The scent of the burned bodies around him reminded him of the deaths and he frowned. _Not vengeance,_ he told himself. _Justice. Not pleasant. Necessary._

The word tasted foul when he whispered it, but he brushed it aside and moved on.

The control station opened when he stabbed his saber into the control panel and revealed another trio of thugs, along with the clear commander, wearing shoulder pads and carrying a nicer blaster pistol.

"You don't want to to that," Hayram informed him when they all drew guns. The two cronies on opposite sides of the commander fired first; it was easy to bat the bolts back where they came, impacting the thugs' chests and killing them instantly. The commander himself hesitated, and that was enough for Kira to reappear behind him, lightsaber activating under his throat. The man's eyes bulged in their sockets and he dropped the blaster, whimpering.

"I surrender!" he cried, and fell to his knees.

Kira snorted and kicked his blaster aside. "Don't cry," she sighed. "We don't have time for it."

"I want to know where the doctor is," Hayram demanded, deactivating his saber and replacing it at his belt. "Tarnis. You took him." He waved his fingers in a circle for emphasis. "This is the part where you start talking."

"W-we never took him," the commander said quickly, swallowing. "Th-this was a decoy. The Black Suns have him, _paid_ us to-"

"Why?" Hayram asked. "Why all the deception? What's really going on?"

"I-I don't know... please..." The man looked pitiful, clasping his hands together and shaking them. "We-we were just paid to-"

"To kill people," Hayram finished, and Kira stared at him, torn about something. He ignored her. "I know."

The cold fire inside him burned again, as if it belonged to a dragon waiting to be unleashed. The man before him was a murderer. He'd do it again if given the chance.

It was hard, but Hayram planted his boot in the man's face, knocking him out. "Get the security officers in here," he told Kira shortly. "Have them interrogate him."

"Wait!" she called as he marched away. "Where are you going?"

"Something's not right," he insisted. "I'm going to Black Sun territory and I'll get the answers if I have to march into their headquarters and ask their leader." He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself before he lashed out. _Relax. It's over. You did what you had to, no more._

Kira ran in front of him, placed a hand on his chest. "Slow down, tough guy," she said. "If you're going down there, I'm going with you."

"We need someone to take care of-"

"That's the police's job and you know it," she snapped back. "Two Jedi are better than one, remember? Besides, I feel what you do. Something's off. It smells like Sith, and every Jedi knows it." He considered, thinking it over. _If her Master disapproves, it'll be bad, especially if she gets hurt..._ "Okay, how about this?" She turned and began to walk away from the control center, through the hangar.

Hayram raised an eyebrow, confused. "How about what?"

"_I'm_ going to Black Sun central," Kira called back. "_You_ can come along if you want."

Hayram watched for a moment, his struggle with anger forgotten as T7 rolled up next to him. _Wow. She's... intense._

The droid asked, _T7+Jedi=need help. Kira=double-lightsaber. Kira=help._

Hayram chuckled. "When you put it that way..." He moved to jog to catch up next to the Padawan, who regarded him expectantly. "Alright," he agreed. "Two Jedi."


	11. Partners- Kira Carsen

**Partners- Kira Carsen**

"So... at last the Sith reveals himself."

The Black Sun base felt cold to Kira, dark and littered with bodies. They had stormed the complex after freeing the Republic Security forces in the area; together, a concentrated attack had broken into the headquarters. Hayram had led the charge, taking down the Black Sun commander just after he'd finished a conversation with Lord Tarnis, the Sith in charge of the operation on Coruscant.

_Lord_ Tarnis, who had posed as Doctor Tarnis only to give himself access to Republic databases and to create a weapon on Coruscanti soil. A brilliant plan, one that the Republic couldn't counter because it believed the Planet Prison was for it to use, not to be used against it.

Kira was furious that they'd been duped so completely. _We were right. We were right all along and we still didn't catch him fast enough..._

"At last, indeed," Tarnis agreed as he spoke to Hayram via the holocomm in the room, his ghostly blue figure the primary source of illumination. "I can cast aside the irritating illusion and be who I am. I'm certain you understand the pleasure in that, even if you are a Jedi."

"We're going to stop you," Hayram promised, glaring at the hologram. "You think you can run, but you can't. There's nowhere you can go where I won't find you."

"You're quite the overconfident one," Tarnis mused. "I've no time left for this. My Planet Prison is almost ready. Farewell." He turned away and the image vanished. Hayram stood alone before the projector, fists clenched, as though wrestling with something.

Kira shook her head. "I can't believe it. Well, actually, I can. It just seems... sudden."

"I knew there was something wrong about him," Hayram muttered. "I should've acted sooner."

"Hey, don't blame yourself," she told him. "We can still catch him. We just have to... you know... find out where he is."

"That's easy," he retorted sarcastically. "How do you suggest we do that?"

Before Kira could answer, the droid, T7, beeped excitedly from the computer console next to the holoprojector. "What is it?" she asked quickly, trying to remember her droidspeak from her days on Nar Shaddaa.

_T7=found something! Sith Lord transmission=coming from lower levels._

"The lower levels?" She knelt beside it. "How about some coordinates, little guy?"

The droid twisted its interface probe, the device turning in the socket of the terminal. _T7=traced Tarnis to Jedi Temple._ It beeped lowly, sadly.

Kira said, "Did I hear that right? You said 'Jedi Temple'?" T7 beeped in the affirmative and she sighed. "Great. The ruins of the Temple."

"It makes sense," Hayram added bitterly. "Few visitors. He probably thought it was a clever insult, too." He turned to the Republic Security lieutenant. "Can you and your men take it from here?"

"We've got it, Master Jedi," the lieutenant said. "Go catch that Sith bastard."

Hayram nodded. "The Jedi Temple it is."

"Easier said than done, partner," Kira told him. "The Temple is only accessible through the lower levels these days, and the fastest route? A place called the Works."

"The Works?"

T7 _whoooed_ grimly from beside her and Kira knew that it understood. "The Works is a place where people go in and don't come out," she explained. "Where a lot of Coruscant's automated processes operate, and where droids run around unchecked. The dangerous droids, too. And then there's your standard level of crazy people and maniacs who like to hang around there, too. Just for kicks, or something."

Hayram shrugged. "I still don't see how else to catch up with Tarnis." He raised a brow at her challengingly. "I thought you wanted to come?"

_Oh, that's how it's going to be, huh?_ "Oh, I wanted to come," she retorted. "I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into."

He gestured for the door. "I'm ready. Ladies first."

She snorted and exited the base, making her way to the taxi station at the end of the city-building complex. Haytham climbed in beside her with T7 and she took off, steering them for Justicar territory. "We're headed for the Justicars," she told Hayram. "They're a bunch of paramilitary vigilantes, so don't expect them to be friendly."

"I've heard of them," he muttered. "This is the only way to the Works?"

"It's the fastest," she said apologetically, and he nodded.

It was some time later, when they were sneaking through said Justicar turf when Kira found the courage to ask, "You okay?"

The young Knight paused, glanced back at her before peering around a corner again, looking for vigilante patrols. "I'm fine," he said. "What makes you ask?"

"You seemed to get pretty tense back there. And before. With the Guild thugs in the hangar." To be honest with herself, it worried Kira. _The guy seems really wound up. Like he might snap over something big..._

She could only imagine (and fear, a little, if she was more honest with herself) what would happen when they did catch up with Tarnis.

"I'm okay," he reassured her. "Tython is still fresh. It was... a little difficult."

"I heard," she responded as they rounded the corner and made their way down the empty street. Justicar territory was devoid of crime, but also life; no one was out mingling, no children playing, everyone scared away by the patrols. It reminded Kira of the Empire. _Imagine that. A place that is like the Empire in the heart of the Republic Capitol..._ "Heard you beat Bengel Moore too, by yourself." Her lips twitched into a smile as she pointed at the lightsaber hanging at his belt. "With that."

He flicked at the weapon with a finger. "Yeah. It was... sort of a rush job."

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "I... can see that."

Hayram turned, looking mock-insulted. "Are you making fun of my lightsaber?"

She crossed her arms. "Maybe a little. And maybe I'm trying to get you to lighten up a little. You know, saving a planet is no fun if you're too wound up to enjoy it."

His lips drew into a thin line before he said, "I'm just trying to do our job." He shook his head as they continued down the street. "How are you so light about everything?"

_...Better not answer that._ "Eh," she shrugged. "Just who I am. Most things just... roll off my back."

"Like a Corellian cerulean duck."

"Just like that. Only I'm not as blue."

"So, you already had one? A lightsaber?"

_Not good. He's hitting all the wrong questions today..._ "Yeah. Master Kiwiiks thought I was ready, so I built this about a year ago." She hefted the weapon in her hand, twirled it before replacing it at her belt.

"You're pretty terrible at lying, you know."  
His statement (not an accusation, either, she understood) caught her off guard. "Uh... I am?" she asked dumbly.

"Yeah. But if you don't want to answer you don't have to. Makes no difference to me." He seemed to realize that what he'd said was a little harsh, because he added, "Not that I-... that came out wrong." He grinned sheepishly. "It's just that we'll be moving on and separated again soon enough."

"Oh." Oddly, Kira felt a pang of something that felt like regret at those words. But it couldn't be regret, surely. There was no reason for there to be regret. "Yeah. You're right."

Silence fell between them again as she pushed away the unwanted feeling. _Jedi tricks are good for something, I guess..._

"It wasn't all bad, though," she continued after a moment. "The Tython incident. You made Knight, after all."

He shrugged. "I suppose I did."

"You suppose?" she scoffed. "Force, if I'd been made a Knight I'd be ecstatic."

"Don't get me wrong," he amended, "I'm pleased and all. It just... didn't come the way I thought it would."

She increased her pace to match his, standing beside him. "And how did you expect it come, tough guy?"

He didn't answer for a moment, then laughed.

"What?" she chuckled.

"You'll think it's ridiculous, trust me."

"Maybe I will, but that just makes me want to hear it more. Come on. Tell me. Or else."

He raised a brow at her. "Or else?"

"Or else I..." She faltered, wracking her mind quickly for a taunt. "... I'll make fun of your lightsaber again?"

"That was weak," he informed her cheekily.

"I'm waiting."

_" Alright. _I always thought I'd be knighted because I'd done something... heroic."

Kira almost stopped in the street, instead fighting the grin that stole its way across her face. "Heroic?" she teased.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off. "Come on, elevator's this way..."

"Oh, I _get it_," she crowed, catching up with him again. "_You_ have a hero complex."

"It's right over here..."

"You _do_." She smirked at him. "You know that that's the cheesiest thing in the galaxy, right?"

"Yeah, I do." Hayram laughed again, and Kira thought it interesting that he accepted it rather than deny it. _Huh. Not afraid of being who he is._

"So how was what you did on Tython unheroic?"

Hayram's grin faded. _Oops. Score for Kira..._ "Didn't seem that heroic," he said cryptically.

"You saved the Temple," Kira reminded him, eager to repair the damage. "And the twi'leks. So you had to chop Bengel's leg off-"

"Arm."

"Arm off. I must've misheard part of the story. The point, tough guy, is that you saved a lot of people. You're kind of hard on yourself, you know that?"

He nodded again, and she frowned, unable to counter it.

"Almost there," he said after a while, nodding toward the elevator at the end of the street.

"Guess we are," she noted. As they entered she wrinkled her nose. "I can already tell this chase is going to be _joyous._"

"Cheer up, partner," he quipped as he let T7 into the lift and hit the button to take them down into the Works. "At least we're saving the planet. Right?"

Somehow, Kira felt that maybe she _had_ gotten him to lighten up a little, and she smiled back. "Right."

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** Working through Coruscant pretty rapidly. I have to explain that, I feel; because The Old Republic is a game, it has areas and storylines that are very transparently designed to make you run around gathering experience. This doesn't translate well to written format, so I'm attempting to streamline the plotline into a more logical format. For instance, our trio doesn't run around Justicar turf for hours like in the game; instead, they know where to go and just _head there_. It's beautiful, isn't it? Come on, anyone who's played knows I'm right...

In any event, expect another three to five chapters of Coruscant, and then the Prologue will be officially complete. Also, I should mention that for those of you who know of the Jedi Knight story, you notice that I am going to skip Ord Mantell; you spend probably an hour on that planet and for a skippable reason. It's just an irrelevant bit of storyline, and the plot flows more smoothly if the team heads straight to Taris.

I think I'm getting the character's individual voices and dynamics down. I'm attempting to write Hayram as a foil to Kira, since Kira is the more defined persona in the game material. Hayram is sort of there, but your avatar can be pretty blunt or emotionless at times. Due to that, he needs to be different from Kira: more serious, broody, and overall quiet. If they were both the same, it'd be a boring story until new characters came along, and I'm going to have to rely on these two main protagonists for a while until Act 2 (because T7 is cool and all, but no human being). That said, I do try to keep a few things common between them, like sarcasm (because sarcasm is cool) and overall good nature. We'll see how my attempt at romance ends up playing out. It may be cringe-worthy. (shrug)

Anyhow, thanks again to everyone reading, and _especially_ to anyone who reviewed! I truly appreciate all of them and write back to everyone, so once again I ask that if you liked the story, let me know!

Next up is T7, making a return POV from the very first chapter of Apex. After it is _potentially_ Lord Tarnis, and _potentially_ Kira again. I haven't decided. I may do both. Stay tuned to find out.


	12. Recollection- T7-01

**Recollection- T7-01**

T7 quickly concurred that it disliked the Works.

Down in the underbelly of Coruscant, the noise was extreme; in every direction something was moving or shifting or screeching, and T7 heard it all. The input for its audioreceptors was grating, conflicting; it was no wonder to T7 that droids went insane down here. The entire placed was filled with factories pumping out raw materials for use in constructing the levels above, and a thick yellow smoke clouded the air as it was pumped out of exhaust piping all around them, obscuring T7's visual range.

Even so, it took it upon itself to lead; with the retrieved schematic for the Works in its databanks, T7 stood the best chance of leading the group through the maze of tunnels and debris-crowded walkways. Kira and Hayram followed T7, lightsabers out and at the ready, prepared for anything.

They'd already been assaulted by a host of insane droids and odd mutants, and Imperials in addition to that. T7 found that data to prove conclusive to another, more worrying concept. _Imperials on Coruscant with Sith=Empire ready to take planet from inside. Planet Prison=disable orbital defenses. Conclusion=Imperial Fleet waiting to attack._

As they moved beneath a series of bridges, darting through acrid smoke spewed from a charred pipe, T7 relayed this conclusion with a series of grim notes.

Hayram nodded after a moment. "Makes sense," he muttered. "One strike, and they'll have the Republic _exactly_ where they want it."

"That won't happen," Kira assured him. "We're almost there. Right, T7?"

The droid rechecked the schematics. _T7=almost to service tunnels to Jedi Temple._

"Let's move quickly," Hayram urged. "I can feel something... Tarnis is close..."

Being a droid, T7 had no data with which to assess that statement, but it had already learned that it was best to trust Jedi on matters of instinct. It was a lesson ingrained into his behavioral core from hundreds of years ago.

Hundreds of years ago, when T7 had lived at the Jedi Temple...

A blaster bolt flashed toward T7 from out of the gloom, but Hayram's lightsaber snapped into being and smacked it away. "Sniper!" he cried, and he and Kira took the front.

Immediately the air was charged with superheated plasma, red and green bolts shining and streaking toward the Jedi; their blades elegantly swam around them, nudging bolts aside and back at the Imperials. A squad of soldiers began to coalesce out of the smoke, men and women in black armor with red highlights, helmets obscuring their faces.

T7 readied its own blaster and began to fire downrange, calculating its aim via distance and the movement path of the Imperial scum.

The first series of bolts hit a solder dead-on, buckling and burning his armor and terminating him; T7 moved on, aiming toward the next man, then stopped, optical scanner zooming in on detected movement beyond the soldiers...

Only to find _more_. There was more than a single squad coming. Nearly thirty, T7 counted in a second.

The odds compiled themselves instantly for its analysis. Both Jedi were skilled, but in the confined space of the tunnel they would be boxed in and if surrounded their chances of survival were slimmer than usual. Imperial soldiers were also known for their precision; several of them may have faced Jedi before. These were not common thugs. _Probability for survival=30.78%_

T7 disliked low probabilities almost as much as the Works, and devised a new plan, _squeeing_ loudly as it rolled off down an adjacent ramp into an upper level, away from the fight. Blaster bolts grazed its plating and struck near its legs and Hayram called out, "T7!" but the droid kept moving, intent on its objective.

It took only moments of searching for T7 to find what it needed; a collection of old protocol and probe droids, clanging and screeching incoherently at each other near a waste-collection tube from the upper levels. The droids rounded on T7 as it approached, their mad eyes gleaming in the pale yellow light, vocal processors clicking and clacking eerily.

T7 shot one in the chest; the protocol model collapsed limply, the light going out in its eyes. T7 wasn't quite regretful for its action; the droids had lost their minds. Deactivating them spared them whatever torment their processors and cores were experiencing.

The astromech near the protocol droid whined loudly in protest, extending a shock ray from its chassis. T7 extended its own in a clear challenge, then beeped loudly and turned around sharply, firing its blaster randomly into the air, creating an irresistible target.

As it had predicted, the insane droids charged after him, screeching loudly and brandishing pipes or blasters or shock rays or their own clawed hands. T7 led them back down the ramp to where the Jedi were engaged, their sabers still lit and active, their faces constricted with effort. Hayram spotted T7, relief evident in his features, and T7 stared back.

_Jedi=stay back_, it told him.

"What?"

T7 barreled toward the Imperials at the other end of the tunnel.

"T7! What are you-"

The cadre of machines that had followed the little droid suddenly swarmed down the ramp and into the tunnel, still pursuing T7 relentlessly, and headed straight for the Imperial force that ceased its fire in disbelief and fear.

T7 rolled in between two soldiers' legs, turned, and fired into the horde.

The droids hissed and clacked in aggression and bared their weapons for the Imperials, where the shot had come from. The soldiers readied their rifles, but by that time it was too late and the droids had made it into melee range.

Chaos enveloped the tunnel.

Suddenly the space was filled with the awful sounds of droid metal screeching as it was blasted and torn apart and the crying of Imperial voices as their armor was bashed or pierced by fanged appendages or jabbed with electrified probes. T7 took the opportunity to blast one in the back, then rolled away, easing smoothly through the fight and into the outskirts.

It only had to wait another second for the Jedi to take advantage of the intense close-quarter combat; they leapt into range, lightsabers held high, and disappeared into the tangle of metal and armor, green and violet flashes gleaming amidst the confusion.

At such range, the lightsabers were deadly, and in seconds the Jedi had cut down most of the Imperials and droids, finishing the others off with elegant spinning strikes or precise lunges into hearts and cores. When the last Imperial fell, a dying breath leaking from his lips, and the Jedi remained alive, T7 felt a thrum of satisfaction within its behavioral core.

Hayram and Kira grinned at the droid. "Can I just say that that was brilliant?" she commended.

"T7-01," Hayram added. "Astromech droid _and_ tactical genius."

_T7=pleased that Jedi and Kira=safe._

"Thanks to you, little guy." The two Jedi approached T7 and Hayram rested a hand on its dome. "We'd never have made it this far without you."

T7 beeped happily. _T7=needs lightsaber attachment._

And Kira and Hayram laughed, and T7 retrieved a memory of being part of a group unit, a long time ago...

"Come on," Hayram said after a moment. "Let's go get our man."

T7 turned cheerily and rolled on its way. _Destination=not far. Jedi Temple ruins=unstable._

That assessment turned out to be accurate; after entering the service crawlspaces, the trio emerged on the ground floor of what used to be the Jedi Temple's main hall.

Once proud and grand, beautiful but simple, the hall was now littered by _piles_ of debris and wreckage, the pillars fallen and collapsed, the bones of dead Jedi and Sith scattered among the ground.

T7 rolled forward into the flickering lights on what remained of the ceiling, staring out at the vast carnage.

It remembered its master's final stand, here. And there was where he had dueled Malgus... and there... that was where he had-

"T7?" Hayram asked hesitantly. "You okay, little guy?"

The droid gave a low _bwoo_ in response, head dome dipping as it examined the carvings of the floor, once so elegant, now covered in rubble. It hadn't expected to return home, not after all this time. Now that it was here...

T7 found itself considering, despite the impossibility of the idea, that things would have been better had they occurred differently.

_T7=built here_, it admitted. _T7=home._

Silence filled the ruins, the sad place occupied only by a droid built there centuries prior and the first Jedi to enter its halls in all that time.

T7 could almost pick up audio signals that sounded eerily like _echoes_...

"Hey," Hayram said, kneeling by the droid. "That's why we're going after Tarnis. We have to make sure this doesn't happen to anybody else. Never again." His voice and face were determined, focused. T7 believed him, once again.

The astromech swiveled its eye to regard the Jedi. _Destruction of home=never again happen_, it concurred. It backed away, withdrew its blaster in preparation. _T7=ready to face Sith._

Hayram nodded after a moment. "Alright," he said, withdrawing his lightsaber. "Let's go, my friend. Tarnis is waiting." He moved to proceed down a darkened, ruined corridor...

...And T7 followed.


	13. Delayed- Lord Tarnis

**Delayed- Lord Tarnis**

The Planet Prison was magnificent; it was positioned above the old training room where, many years before, Jedi had called their students to teach them, give them guidance. Now, the ceiling had caved out, and popping out from within was a mechanical device, like a flower of harsh steel. The Prison's dish-like main charging apparatus was pointed directly at the sky, the power cells attached to Coruscant's main electrical grid via large, thick cables that dug into the ground beneath the Temple. It had taken work, much of Tarnis' time, and required painstaking secrecy and care.

And yet here it was. Complete, ready to cripple the Republic just as Tarnis had imagined it would. Once it was finished charging, the dish would project the ionic energy focused enough to utterly ionize a section of the atmosphere; the effect would spread until it covered the sky of the entire planet, just as Tarnis had created it to.

This was it. His masterpiece. What he had prepared for all his life.

It left only one problem to deal with.

"Jedi," Lord Tarnis sneered as he felt the pinpricks of their light in the darkness of the Force. "You truly are persistent, aren't you?" He turned away from the holoprojector, away from his father and his apprentices. The two Jedi from before were approaching, an astromech droid along with them.

"Sorry to interrupt," the woman, Carsen, snapped back. Tarnis stared into her, snaking tendrils of his own dark presence into her mind, and she shivered, growled and threw up a wall that he couldn't penetrate.

Tarnis' eyes widened; there was something _different_ about that one. It was if she _recognized_ Tarnis' darkness...

"What's this, Tarnis?" Lord Sadic, one of the men on the holoprojector, taunted. "A loose end?"

"Not for long," Tarnis retorted.

"You're right about that," the other Jedi, Antilles, agreed, activating an emerald lightsaber and holding it loosely at his side. "We're about to end you right here, right now."

Tarnis withdrew from his attack on Carsen, sought out the mind of Antilles... and met no resistance. Hungrily, he dove into the Jedi's mind, feeling his way into the psyche of the fool who had dared challenge him...

He flinched and withdrew, blinking in surprise, and Antilles smiled. _There is such anger in that one... he wanted me to feel it?_

_What kind of Jedi is he?_ Tarnis sneered, "You'll be the first Jedi to die in this Temple for centuries. You should be proud." He called the saber at his belt into his hand, activated it with a _snap-hiss_.

"Fight well, my son," Darth Angral urged from his position on the projector. "Do _not_ let these Jedi filth take away your victory!"

"Have faith, my father," Tarnis asked. "I _cannot_ fail now." He twirled his blade once, ready. It wouldn't do to show weakness when his father was watching.

The two sides, Jedi and Sith, faced off just as they had three hundred years prior.

It began with Antilles leaping toward Tarnis, blade held high to come smashing against Tarnis' blood red saber; Tarnis gathered a burst of dark power and shoved back, throwing out a hand and spearing lightning at the Jedi, only to have it intercepted by a violet blade carried by the Padawan.

The Sith pressed the advantage, laughing madly and darting forward, saber pointed in a lunge aimed for Carsen's heart; she batted it away only barely and Tarnis rolled past her, avoiding a swipe from Antilles as he led them out of the confined space of the training room and away from his device.

_This will be _fun_... Together, they are difficult. Apart, and I might finish them off... _His lips curled. _And what great joy it will be to watch one witness the death of the other..._

"Running already?" Antilles crowed, charging after Tarnis, who spun and leapt to a fallen pillar that extended over a mountain of rubble and debris, half of it hanging a dozen meters above the ground in mid air. Tarnis balanced on the rounded surface easily and Antilles followed him, driving attacks forward aimed for Tarnis' limbs.

He turned them aside, backing away and letting the Jedi push him further along the column. His retreat was halted when Carsen appeared behind him, jumping into the fray and stabbing for his spine. He twisted, catching her strike and _just_ moving in time to block another attack from Antilles.

Tarnis felt a jolt of fear as he dove into the dark side, relying on it to move his arms quickly enough to stop the attacks aimed at his back and front. The two Jedi moved in tandem, working together to maximize their assault, almost as if they were _bonded_-

Antilles tried to end it by blasting the ground with a burst of Force energy; Tarnis wobbled unsteadily and Carsen moved in for the kill, but he managed to press off with his feet and leap from the column, landing readily on the floor and hurling his lightsaber at the unstable structure itself. The blade sheared through the ancient stone, carving it in half, and while Antilles stood firm on the stable side the Padawan toppled and fell with the pillar, colliding with the ground in a puff of dust and debris.

The Sith sensed her still alive through the Force, only dazed, and sniffed. It would have been amusing to see her crushed by the environment.

Still, the distraction would do. Now he could focus on-

Antilles came out of _nowhere_ again, slamming attacks forward and driving Tarnis to back away frantically, anger bubbling within him. This Jedi was determined but reckless, and a man like him would _not_ get in Tarnis' way, not while he was so close.

He snarled and met a chop with one of his own, pressing the lightsabers together and bringing his face close to Antilles'. "Pathetic, _boy_," he growled. "You think you can meet me with the dark's own power? You believe yourself to be _commanding_ anger?" He reached out again, felt the energy the Jedi was drawing from his own rage, smiled grimly at the scene within his opponent.

This Jedi was _corrupted, _and he didn't even know it.

"I have enough power to stop you," Antilles replied shortly. "That's all that matters."

"You fail to understand," Tarnis gleefully said. "You utilize the dark, but you have no idea _how_ to do so. _I_ was raised by Darth _Angral_; where you have adopted it, I was _born_ with it!"

To punctuate his words, he reached deep into his own well of anger, channeled Force Lightning through his hands and into his saber blade; the energy rushed through the red and green sabers and down into Antilles' arms, and suddenly the Jedi started to scream as the tendrils of lightning crawled over his body, jabbing into him and igniting his nerves with fire.

Yet he persisted, unwilling to break away.

"Anger is useless," Tarnis taunted, "if you do not know how to use it." He ramped up the power of his lightning, sending it charging into the young Jedi's body as Antilles' eyes fluttered and his grip on the lock slackened...

Tarnis shouted and shoved him back with the Force; Antilles slammed into the far stone wall, slumped against the ground, his life flickering uncertainly, and Tarnis grinned, pleased. _Now, as for the girl..._

Just in time, she came hurtling out of the debris and began hammering away at Tarnis with her saberstaff, violet blade everywhere at once and seeking to end his life. Tarnis let his victory wash over him, felt whatever fear he'd experienced earlier dissipate. Antilles' was clearly the stronger of the two; this would be child's play.

"And now, the _pretender_," he gloated. "At least your friend _used_ what he knew he possessed. You have _darkness_ within you, Carsen. I _felt_ it."

"Don't start monologuing , now," she snapped back. "It's such a cliché." She stabbed forward, scratched the inside of his robe and he hissed, slapping her blade away with his own and halting her attack with a powerful Force Push.

As she retreated, he continued, "Why do you hold back? I _embrace_ my power." He began his own assault, unrelenting, unstoppable. A strike to her right, a lunge to her chest, spin with the parry, swipe for her head, smash for her skull when she ducks... "It's why I'm going to kill you, Carsen."

"You can't kill what you can't see," she gasped as she barely blocked another strong swing, tapping something at her belt and fading from view.

Tarnis smiled. "Ah, _deception_. Now _there's _a Sith way of fighting. You see, girl? You're already on the right path..." As he spoke, he reached into the dark side and peered into the Force, sniffing deeply. "You can't hide when I can _smell_ your fear, Padawan."

Whirling at a nudge from the Force, he rammed his saber down into what looked like open air, only for a purple blade to appear just in time to intercept his red one, sparing Carsen's life. The strike was powerful enough, however, to shock it loose from his fingers and Tarnis sent it flying with a flick of his finger; the weapon tumbled into the rubble beyond as Carsen faded back into view, defenseless.

"T7!" she cried, diving to avoid Tarnis' quick chop for her neck, and the droid from before screeched and launched a flurry of bolts at Tarnis from the sidelines. The Sith caught the bolts lazily with his saber and gripped the astromech with the Force, dragging it along the ground before cannoning it into the wall, where it fell and sparked, disabled.

The Sith turned in time to see Carsen vanish down a side door, eyes wide and afraid before she shut it behind her. He chuckled. _Really, Jedi? Running from a fight you lose? Abandoning your friend? Coward..._ He moved to follow her, smashing it open with a precise kick and emerging on the other side into darkness.

It was only then that he realized that she'd led him into the power station he'd set up for the Planet Prison; the servers and generators scattered throughout the room barely illuminated the place, casting the room in a gloomy blue glow. Ahead were the remnants of Jedi holobook cases and research terminals; no doubt she was hiding there. She'd shut off the lighting for the chamber, busted the control console near the door with her boot.

It irked Tarnis to think that she would retreat here for an advantage. _Fool._ "You make the same mistake as your friend," he boasted, holding his saber ready. "You adopt the dark, but do not know how to use it. I _sense_ your terror, Carsen. Running will not save you."

There was a silence, as cold and definite as the dark side itself.

"Then come and get me," a whisper in the air taunted, drifting along the generators and to the tangled maze of shelves and holobook cases.

"Very well, then, _Jedi. _Let us finish this," Tarnis growled and shut the door behind him, descending into the dark.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** Here we go, part one of two of the Tarnis fight. I'd like to thank Lokken.8 for the idea to actually have it from _both_ Tarnis and Kira's POV; it mixes things up, and I think it's working out well.

So Coruscant is going to end up longer than I guessed, but that's all fine and good. Still another 2-3 chapters, and then we'll be moving on to Taris.

I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed so far, especially my regulars. You guys make this even more of a joy to write, and I like hearing what everyone has to say about the vignettes. Once again, if you have anything you'd like to say or even if you simply enjoyed the read, let me know! It's a good feeling, knowing that you've created something someone else liked.

And without further ado, I move on to the Kira perspective of this fight...


	14. Native- Kira Carsen

**Native- Kira Carsen**

Alone in the dark, Kira shivered in fear.

She could sense Tarnis moving toward her, a shadow that felt at peace within the darkness she had shrouded herself in. "Do you feel your end approaching, Padawan?" he called quietly. "I do..."

She closed her eyes, hovering behind the holobook case at the far end of the room, swallowing thickly as she tried to devise a way out of the jam she'd wedged herself into _without_ resorting to what she had in mind. _Hayram and T7 are down, at least for now. Only another ten seconds or so until he reaches me. No lightsaber. No light._

_Yeah, odds couldn't get much worse unless the Emperor himself showed up..._

She heard Tarnis' footsteps getting closer and her fear spiked, heart hammering away loudly in her chest.

_Force... I haven't been near a Sith in so long... I'd forgotten..._

"That's it, girl, let the fear take you," he urged sickeningly. "It'll be over soon. I'll only leave you alive to drag you in front of my father for an execution..."

She whispered into the dark, sounding far braver than she felt, "You're almost there..."

"Yes, I am..."

She shivered again, clenched her eyes shut. _Alright, Kira. You can do it. It's not something you forget. You have to. For the mission. For Coruscant._ Her eyes opened, flashed as a spark of defiance lit in her heart. _And if he killed Hayram..._

She stood up, back pressed to the book case, summoning the Force and wrapping herself in it, taking deep breaths to steady herself. _This will work. It always does. Sith feel fear more than anyone else..._

Tarnis reached the edge of the case and rounded it just as Kira twisted her thoughts and blended with the shadows.

The Sith Lord stared at where she'd been standing for a moment, confounded, then smiled, his face illuminated wickedly by the blood red light of his saber. "Ah, this trick again. Why draw this out, girl?"

Kira whispered into the dark, "Because I'm going to make your death long and _painful_."

The tension in the room changed, as Kira took another breath, drinking in the fear her statement caused. The shadows in the room deepened, the light waned, the air chilled. They were both immersed in the dark, now. Kira could feel the old connection she'd hoped was severed in the back of her mind. She had to be careful, else she might trigger it and the Emperor would sense her...

As immersed in the darkness of the Force as she was, _she_ was vulnerable to fear, too...

"_My_ death?" Tarnis repeated incredulously. "A hopeless taunt. I'm your _better_, Padawan. There is no way you can defeat me, let alone _kill_ me in my moment of triumph."

Kira stayed with the shadows of the room, gliding silently behind Tarnis. "I can kill you," she promised, "and I will. You've come into my home." As the Sith turned she glided away again, vanishing in a burst of Force-assisted speed.

"You're a Jedi," he corrected, though his brows were contracting, his pulse increasing. He gripped his saber with both hands tightly. "You have _no_ knowledge of how to use the dark side..."

"That's where you're wrong, Lord Tarnis," she breathed, sliding up behind him again, faster and quieter than he could ever hope to be. "I _was_ born in the dark..."

He swung his saber for her but she had already darted away, planting a vicious kick in his side as penance for his mistake. Tarnis rebalanced quickly, eyes wide as he scanned the area for her.

"But you and me? We _are_ different," she agreed as she peeked from behind cover and within shadowed corners of their arena. "You were created in a human kind of darkness. You knew emotion. You knew anger and fear and cruelty, at least." She flashed into existence in front of him, driving a Force-empowered punch into his face and bringing her knee into his gut, crushing the air from him. Tarnis wheezed and she slammed her fist into his cheek, kicked him to the ground again before vanishing, blending with darkness.

She felt a pleased thrum in her heart, the dark side calling to her, and it took all of Kira's concentration to momentarily hold it at bay. She couldn't keep it up for long, not unless she wanted to risk everything...

But it was working. _Tarnis _was shivering now, his saber shaking weakly. "Come out and face me!" he demanded, and she fed off his fear even more, reflecting it back at him and forcing the power of it into his mind. He groaned, swallowed.

"Look at you, _Lord_ Tarnis," she taunted from all around him. "So scared. So weak. You want to know where _I_ was born?" She gripped his saber arm with a powerful hold; he was unable to wrench it away. "_I_ was born in a _void_. You think you know darkness?" She called on the Force and wrenched his arm back; the bone snapped and Tarnis cried out, saber falling from his fingers. Kira leaned closer. "_I _was part of darkness _personified._"

And she shoved him away with a Force Push, knocking him into a book case that toppled over.

Tarnis gasped pathetically for breath on the ground, a weak creature that should be stamped from the universe. Kira called the saber to her hand, held it high, a cruel smile on her face as she brought it down-

_WAIT!_

Suddenly she gasped, fear spiking through her again as she tossed the saber away, withdrawing from the dark in a panic, stumbling to her knees as she gulped for air, shaking and in a cold sweat.

_Oh, Force, that was so close... I almost... _He_ almost had me..._

Tarnis looked at her, confusion evident as anger mounted.

Kira stared back. _No... I can't go back... it'll take me..._

"I see what your weakness is," Tarnis announced as he got to his feet, retrieved his saber with his unbroken arm, lit it. Kira couldn't stop him, couldn't find the strength to stand. "You are _afraid_ of the dark side while I am _not_."  
He approached her and raised the blade.

_Sorry, tough guy. I tried..._

Something exploded in the generator room, the wall blasting open and allowing a missile wearing Jedi robes to bolt into Tarnis' midsection. The Sith Lord hit the opposing wall with his attacker and both collapsed, though the Jedi rolled to his feet first.

It was Hayram, and suddenly Kira's heart leapt and light seemed to flood the room.

He was clutching his side and his robes were scorched but he managed to make it to her, helped her to her feet. "You've looked better," she muttered weakly, somehow so _glad_ that he had come back.

"Look who's talking," he retorted, as they both turned to face Tarnis, a beaten shadow of his former self. "We're not beating him alone," he observed.

"Together?" Kira suggested, flexing her fingers.

"Together."

"_JEDI!_" Tarnis screamed as he got to his feet. "YOU WILL NOT STOP ME! THIS IS MY DESTINY! MY VICTORY!" He outstretched his arms, even his broken one, and lightning speared from his fingers.

Hayram called for Tarnis' saber and lit it in midair, catching it perfectly to allow it to absorb the lightning. As he blocked the assault, Kira rolled to the side, summoned every bit of willpower she had to charge the Force into a mounting blast that coalesced in her hands. Tarnis turned, spotted her, and was too slow to stop the massive Force Push from barreling into him, knocking him through the wall and out of the generator room.

Hayram tossed the Sith blade away disgustedly and he and Kira moved to pursue their enemy.

He had landed in the center of the grand chamber in which they had dueled, blood dripping from his mouth and a dozen small injuries. Hayram and Kira sent their thoughts to their lightsabers and the weapons glided to their hands from the rubble around them, activated and ready.

But it was already over, and all three of them knew it.

"Jedi _slime_," Tarnis spat, slathering blood over Hayram and Kira's boots. "You think this is finished?"

"It is finished," Hayram said darkly. "Give it up."

Tarnis' eyes glistened with mad rage. "_Never_." He stood, roared, shot lightning from his hands again-

This time it was Kira who caught it, balancing the deadly energy on her amethyst blade, and Hayram's eyes narrowed. Kira watched as he twirled his saber once, drew back-

-And threw his lightsaber into Tarnis' chest, piercing him neatly in the heart. The Sith Lord's face slackened in shock, the light fading from his eyes, before he fell back, his dark presence dissipating into nothingness.

Hayram retrieved his saber and attached it to his belt, slumping suddenly as the toll of the lightning returned. Kira shut her own weapon off as well, letting herself return to her knees and breathe and just... _feel happy to be alive, Kira... You're alive..._

They had done it. They had defeated the Sith Lord planning to enslave Coruscant.

It was a miracle.

"_JEDI!"_ an enraged voice roared from the training room. Kira looked across the hall, saw the holograms of the Sith Lords still there, having watched the final turn of the duel.

"We still have to shut down the Planet Prison," Hayram gritted. "Come on." They limped toward the weapon, its console still active, unlocked from Tarnis' operations.

The four Sith Lords stared down at them, expressions ranging from displeasure to unbridled rage. A pureblood Sith, a man in a Sith mask, and two humans. Kira recognized Darth Angral alone, his fists clenched, teeth gnashing together as he stared daggers at Hayram.

She had a sense of growing danger. _He killed Angral's son..._

"You, Jedi," Angral demanded as Hayram looked over the console. "_You_ have killed my _son_!"

"I did," Hayram agreed, tapping a few keys as the Planet Prison's hum died, the lights on it going out.

"I will find you," the Dark Lord promised. "You have no _idea_ what you've unleashed. There's no place in the galaxy where you can hide from my wrath."  
"I won't be hiding," Hayram snapped, staring up at Angral's hologram.

Kira's eyes widened. "Hey, maybe you shouldn't-" _You know, taunt the Lord of Anger..._

"I should hope not," Angral growled. "You've just unleashed darkness on your precious Republic. I will burn _worlds_ for this."

Hayram's fire only grew in response. "Your grudge is with me," he said. "Leave others out of this."

"It is too late," Angral refused. "I will destroy your heart, first, and then, when I have left the Republic as nothing but _ash_, I will find you and I will carve it from your chest with my bare hands. You _will_ know pain, Jedi. You will know _agony_ before I am finished with you."

Kira watched as Hayram stood there, four enemies arrayed before him, and could almost _see_ something weigh down on him, a heavy presence that he bore with reluctance.

And Hayram replied, "Until we meet again, Angral," and drew his lightsaber and threw it in a circular arc through the support beams above.

The blade cut through them cleanly, shearing away the only things keeping the Planet Prison dish from crashing down, and in seconds the machine rumbled, started to fall as Hayram pushed himself and Kira from the room.

The Planet Prison crashed atop the holoprojector, silencing Angral's threats for now and leaving the Temple in eerie, final silence.

Kira looked to Hayram, still injured from the fight, his face streaked with dirt and burned in some places from lightning. "We did it," she said quietly.

He nodded mutely. "And now we've got bigger problems."

_And boy are they a friendly bunch..._ "Yeah," she admitted. "We do." She touched his arm gently, jabbed him with her elbow. "But we _still_ made it. Saved the planet. Just like we said we would."

His lips turned at their corners. "Yeah. I guess we did."

"Come on. Let's check on T7." She moved for the droid, over against the wall across from them-

"Kira, are you alright?"

She froze, asked slowly, "What do you mean? We _did_ just fight a Sith Lord..."

"I... felt something." She turned, saw him watching her hesitantly. "When I regained consciousness, you were..." He searched for a description.

"Dark," she knew, and swallowed nervously, waiting for his reaction.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said pointedly. "Nothing else."

Silence stretched between them, but she was grateful that he didn't press the subject, didn't doubt her. The relief that filled her was... intense. Kira eventually answered, "I will be," and moved away.

But the truth was that she really didn't know.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:**Longest chapter yet! I'm actually really pleased by how this fight turned out, so if you liked it as well drop a review. Or, you know, if you _didn't_ like it, I suppose...

Anyway. I hope my fight scene worked out, and I also hope that you found the dark side stuff intriguing. I certainly did, and anyone who knows Kira's back story understands what's going on here. If you don't, never fear, because it'll be revealed in a vignette in the future.

So. I think Two more chapters for Coruscant. One from Var'Suthra's POV, and one from Hayram's to wrap it all up neatly. Stay tuned, everyone. Things are going to be picking up even more now.


	15. Dissemination- Orgus Din

**Dissemination- Orgus Din**

"We'll need them to hit Taris and Nar Shaddaa," Var'Suthra insisted. He and Orgus were in the briefing room of the Senate Tower, discussing the next step now that Tarnis had been dealt with. "It's the only way to cover all of our bases at once, and Tatooine and Alderaan are too critical to leave to rookies."

"They _did_ just kill a Sith Lord," Orgus reminded the Calamari General as he listened to the briefing, hands clasped behind his back lightly.

"_Talented_ rookies," Var'Suthra admitted, "but rookies nonetheless. Orgus... we can't let this get out of hand." He paused, watery eyes blinking rapidly as he gave the Calamari equivalent of a sigh. "_I_ can't let this get out of hand."

Orgus raised a hand, convinced. "Alright, General. You've won me over. You'll have your Jedi where you want them."

Var'Suthra nodded, satisfied. "Coruscant, almost taken again," he muttered. "_Coruscant_. Hard to imagine this used to be the only unconquerable world in the galaxy."

Orgus frowned. "The Sith have a way of changing things for the worse," he agreed. _Still, we're stopping them. Slowly but surely, we're pushing them back._

_And I've got that feeling again. Like I was right to pick up Antilles on Tython._ Orgus still had trouble wrapping his mind around all that had happened. _Force, I was his master for... a day?_

"I'll be giving them a ship," the General went on, bringing up a schematic on the holotable, displaying a small freighter. "Well-armed and armored. Should allow them to get from place to place without getting killed." Var'Suthra shrugged. "Maybe."

"Have a little faith, my friend," Orgus pressed. "They're Jedi. They've got luck on their side."

The Calamari smiled slightly. "I thought Jedi didn't believe in luck since they had the Force."  
"Sometimes," Orgus returned the smile, "they're one and the same." He nodded to Var'Suthra as he turned to leave. "I'll let them know. I'll contact you once I'm starside." Var'Suthra nodded and brought up something else on the holotable, staring at a chart or graph or some other military statistic.

Orgus left the Senate Tower proper, traveling down the down and into the security station embedded deep within the structure. The architecture changed to resembled that of a modern military installation, gray walls and utilitarian doorways and consoles, nothing at all the like ornate reds and browns of the curves and pillars that decorated the actual Senate. Once inside he continued to the medical center, the sole guard there nodding and stepping to the side upon recognition.

Kiwiiks was already there, but she hadn't moved in yet. Instead she was watching both her Padawan and Orgus' former, and Orgus, in a sudden bout of curiosity, opted to copy her rather than march in and spoil whatever was going on.

"The Force has drawn them together," Kiwiiks said softly, in her mystical, lofty way.

The two were sitting on beds next to one another, Hayram dabbing lightning burns with patches soaked with kolto, Kira wrapping her ankle with a binding of some sort. Every few moments one would help the other; Kira would smear kolto on a hard to reach spot on Hayram's back, and he would cut the gauze she was wrapping her ankle with. They did this silently, communicating without speaking, and both looked tired, grim. The little astromech, T-something, was beeping quietly at their side, a thin scar of black on its dome to mark fresh damage. An interesting trio, all still alive or functional.

_Amazing, given all that's happened._ "Maybe so," Orgus agreed quietly. "They've certainly adapted to one another."

"I've never seen her so calm," Kiwiiks said. "She was always so... restless. Troubled. I always had the sense that she was hiding something from me, or... keeping part of herself locked away. Like she was always acting, even a little."

Orgus raised a brow. "You were a good teacher for her," he reassured her.

"Perhaps," Kiwiiks allowed, "but I think it's time for her to move on. I can only do so much for her, especially after having found her so old."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that..."

"Var'Suthra already spoke to me," she continued. "I accepted. I'll head to Tatooine, I think."

"And leave the politicians and nobles for me?" Orgus grunted. "How glamorous."

They watched their students for a while longer, considering. "Something has changed, Orgus," Kiwiiks stated. "I _feel_ it. And those two are at the center of it."

"Then maybe Var'Suthra was following the Force, even if he didn't know it," Orgus wondered with a slight grin. "It'd be a bad idea to split them up now."

"Agreed."

With that, Orgus moved into the medical center, approached the pair of young Jedi, Kiwiiks trailing behind him.

"Master," Hayram said automatically as Orgus took the liberty of sitting across from him on an opposing bed. Kiwiiks opted to remain standing.

"Master," Kira repeated, smiling at Kiwiiks.

"Kira."

"So..." Orgus drawled slowly. "Busy day."

Kira snorted. "That's the most understated thing I've ever heard, even from another Jedi."

The droid beeped something enthusiastically. "He says he's heard worse," Hayram supplied. "Er... it. It's heard worse."

"I think it's a she, actually," Kira decided. "T7, what gender are you?"

The droid burbled something low.

"Pfft. Fine. You boys can stick together, then."

"Actually," Orgus interjected, seeing his opportunity, "sticking together was what we wanted to speak with you about."

The two Jedi looked to their masters expectantly; Orgus felt no hesitation from them, only fatigue that they pushed aside in favor of readiness.

_Yes. They don't need us anymore._ A small amount of pride filled Orgus' chest at that.

"Before he was killed, we found that Tarnis sent a burst transmission off-world," Kiwiiks explained. "It contained plans _other_ than those for the Planet Prison. General Var'Suthra just informed us that they were for three other weapons being built in secret, scattered across the galaxy."

Hayram frowned deeply. "Why build these? Is the Republic gearing up for war?"

Kiwiiks and Orgus looked at each other, and he nodded slightly. "The Republic has been preparing for war for a while now," he informed them. "A fresh outbreak of conflict is inevitable. It'll happen sooner or later. And this time the Republic wants to win."

All four Jedi let that hang silently, considering the implications. "Then if Tarnis sent them off world," Hayram continued, "Darth Angral has the data on them. He can take them and give the Empire the edge the Republic would have had."

"He can," Orgus stated, "and he will. And there's no time to waste if Angral really is behind all of this. That means we can't afford to go to each weapon one at a time. We'll need to split up, send Jedi to each location, delay the Empire where we can and recapture the weapons. Failing that, we'll destroy them."

"I will be going to Tatooine, and Master Orgus to Alderaan," Kiwiiks informed them. "We've decided that the two of you will go to Taris and then Nar Shaddaa."

Kira and Hayram looked to each other in unison, then back at their masters. "Master Kiwiiks," Kira started, "why?"

The question was simple but easily understood to Orgus: Kira was wondering whether she had done something wrong to cause Kiwiiks to leave her. The togruta master smiled gently, knowingly. "Because I've taught you all I can," she admitted. "You were never meant to have a normal training, Kira. When I first found you, I knew you had a special fate. Now I know that part of it is moving on without me."

"But if you're going to Tatooine, who's my Master?"

"I am," Kiwiiks explained. "But it's largely a technicality. As I said, there's nothing more I can teach you. All you lack is experience, and experience without someone guiding you or... shaping your actions."

Kira's eyes widened. "...Master?"

"You are almost a Knight, Kira," Kiwiiks promised. "This is to be your final test."

The young woman's mouth fell open for a second, surprised. "I... oh... well... alright then..."

"I think she means 'that's great'," Hayram offered, and Orgus returned his smug grin.

"Essentially, this means the two of you will be on your own," he continued. "General Var'Suthra will act in an advisory capacity, but from this moment your assignment is your only boundary. Beyond that, you're a free Jedi, Hayram."

"I'll get it done, Master," Hayram promised.

"I know you will," Orgus inclined his head. _And I'll be there if you need me, Padawan._ "This way, we'll be able to stop the Sith before things get out of hand. You'll need to leave today."

Hayram nodded again, and Orgus nodded back, some understanding passing between them. No, Orgus had never been meant to mentor the young man. Set him on his path, maybe, pick him out of the crowd, but Hayram Antilles' destiny was one he was going to make himself. Orgus wasn't certain whether to be worried or impressed by that.

"There's one more thing," he added. "The General seems to be worried about you 'rookies', so he's seen fit to provide you with something I think you'll like..."

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** So, instead of Var'Suthra, I changed it to Orgus Din and he'll have more chapters in the future. This just makes more sense than having it be the General, whose characterization is largely irrelevant. I may still do a chapter of him in the future. One chapter left of Coruscant, and then we'll be off.


	16. Launch- Hayram Antilles

**Launch- Hayram Antilles**

The ship was beautiful.

A Corellian _Defender-class_ Light Corvette. The ship was long and narrow with a wider head, blaster cannons on either side, and its engines were circular and glowed brightly as it prepared for takeoff, courtesy of the squad of technicians that scrambled around its red and white hull. The ship had been waiting for them in Docking Bay A-113, loading ramp lowered and waiting.

"Woah," Hayram murmured as he stared out at their ship. _Their_ ship. Their _ship_.

Kira whistled appreciatively. "I'll say this," she agreed. "Var'Suthra sure knows how to sweeten a deal."

T7 beeped with them, eye zooming in and out as it analyzed the vessel.

"That he does," Hayram concurred, a wide grin splitting his face. "Come on." He moved for the corvette.

"So saving a planet doesn't make you beam like a kid on Life Day, but a _ship_ does?" Kira teased.

He shrugged, moving up the ramp after one of the techs informed him that the ship was ready for takeoff whenever he pleased. He moved to the door, keyed in the access code the General had given him and stepped inside the corvette.

His smile only grew; the ship was just as impressive on the inside. Painted in calm bronzes, soft whites and cool grays, with a hum emanating from the hyperdrive that he could _feel_ resonating throughout the ship. Indicator lights winked happily from the wall consoles he spotted as he rose the steps into the main hold of the ship. There was the cockpit, behind him, dimmer than the rest of the ship, and there was the holoterminal, and more rooms to the sides, and another stairway that led to a lower deck-

"Stop drooling, the ship is brand new," Kira snorted as she shut the door behind them after allowing T7 to roll up into the corvette, moving to stand beside Hayram. "Wow. Fancy." She pressed a button on the wall console experimentally, frowned when it bleeped offensively.

"Never thought I'd get a ship as a Jedi," he mused, finally sighing contentedly and letting the smile slide off his face. "Actually thought I'd be a ship captain when I was a kid, though."

"Hah. I wanted to be a swoop racer."

It was then that the holoterminal beeped intrusively; the trio moved to the display, Hayram tapping the **Accept** key and allowing the transmission to come through.

General Var'Suthra materialized above them, arms held officially behind his back. "I see you've made it to your new ship in one piece," he observed.

"It's... quite a gift, General," Hayram remarked gratefully.

"Consider it an investment," Var'Suthra corrected, holding up a hand. "Technically I can't give away ships, but these corvettes were designed specifically for use by Jedi on strike missions. It's yours until you don't need it."

Hayram smiled. "I may need it for a long time," he risked.

"Kid, if you complete this mission before Angral has a chance to wreak havoc," the old Calamari shook his head, "you can rent it until the day you die."

"Well," Kira said slyly, "someone's motivated now."

"I'll get it done, General," Hayram said, becoming more serious. "We'll head for Taris immediately. You'll want regular updates?"

"I'll contact you when you get to the planet," Var'Suthra replied. "You're not truly under my command, but it would be more prudent to know what's going on as often as possible."

Hayram nodded. "We'll be in touch, then."

"Excellent. Good hunting. Var'Suthra, out." The General tapped a key on his end of the transmission and he faded from view in a wisp of blue hologram.

"Now then..." Kira spotted a doorway to the side of the main hold, rushed to it. "Aha! I found the Captain's quarters." She flashed Hayram a wicked grin. "First come, first served. They're mine."

Hayram blinked, raised a brow. "Actually, I'm pretty sure that _I'm_ the Captain. The Jedi Knight, and all."

"See, that would mean something to me, if-" She paused, then shrugged. "Actually, it never would. Crew quarters are downstairs." She tossed her bag into the room, claiming it physically, before regarding Hayram challengingly with her arms crossed.

He smirked back. "I think we should let T7 decide."

"Hmph. Fine. T7, what-... Where did he go?"

The two Jedi turned in time to see the little droid disappear down to the lower deck, beeping and buzzing excitedly. "I guess he found something interesting down there," Hayram mused.

"In lieu of our esteemed judge, _I_ still get the room."

Hayram chuckled, held up his hands. "Yes. Fine. Whatever. You can take the room. I get the pilot's chair." He left Kira to examine her new dwelling before moving back down the main hold and up into the cockpit.

It was different here, the lights and displays giving off a warm glow that seemed welcoming. Outside the cockpit window he could see the last techs and supplies being ferried away for their next assignment, leaving them ready for takeoff.

There were three chairs; a pilot, copilot, and navigator. He took the seat on the left, ran his hands along the controls, the hyperdrive lever, the throttle sliders. It looked like the actual pitch and yaw of the ship was controlled via a circular pad, maneuvering the thrusters and flaps depending on how he slid his fingers.

And on the stand next to him hovered a map of the galaxy, glowing and spinning silently amidst the quiet beeps and hums of the ship.

Hayram sighed again and smiled, feeling at peace for the first time in a week.

_Force, a week. Has it really only been that long since I stepped onto Tython?_ He leaned back in the chair, grabbed his makeshift lightsaber, rolled it around in his palms. _So much has happened... everything has changed. I'm a Knight already. Force..._ It seemed surreal.

"So, you ever going to fix that thing?" a familiar voice asked teasingly.

"It doesn't need fixing," he protested jovially. "But I think I will... update it a little on the way to Taris." He replaced it on his belt.

"'Update'. Right." Kira moved into the cockpit, took the seat on the right side. "Seems kind of crazy, doesn't it?"

He nodded and looked at her, understanding what she meant. "Yeah. A little. You said goodbye to Master Kiwiiks?"

"Yeah. She seemed... well, not _sad_, but maybe like she'd miss me. Guess I feel the same way." She looked outside to the hangar, a strange, distance look in her eyes. "Makes me wonder how I got here."

Hayram said, "Believe me, the feeling is mutual. I had no idea things would move this quickly."

"Yeah. Must be even more so for you. What are you now, the youngest Jedi Knight in the Order? Twenty-three?"

"Twenty-five, and no. That title belongs to Revan. There are plenty of Jedi who make Knight around this age."

"Revan?" Kira shook her head. "Not ringing a bell."

"Seriously?" He sat up in his chair, shook his head. "The Jedi who defeated the Mandalorians? Then became _Darth_ Revan?"

"I didn't have time for history class," Kira diverted, leaning in her chair and putting her feet up on the console in a show of mock-aloofness.

Hayram laughed at her. "You must've been a 'fun' Padawan."

"Hey, look at yourself!" she retorted. "Reading for fun. Unbelievable."

"How did you know it was for fun?"

"I didn't. You just told me. Still makes no sense."

He shrugged, smiling.

"Anyway," she continued, eyes alight with energy, "T7 is already down there running diagnostics on the hyperdrive. He says it's ready whenever we are."

Silence fell between them, companionable instead of uncomfortable, and Hayram found that he accidentally ended up watching her instead of the ship or the console. He'd never really noticed (being busy fighting Sith and Flesh Raiders and saving planets), but Kira was truly very pretty, red hair cut to hang around her face and above her neck, a length of it tangled in a knot atop her head, eyes a shining blue that quirked themselves oddly as she stared at him-

_Oh_, stared at him.

"What's up?" she asked curiously.

_Uh oh._ "... Nothing," he forced out. "Just thinking."

She frowned, not convinced. "...Okay. Just so you know, you're a terrible liar too."

He smiled. "I guess we're even, then." He leaned forward, flicking switches and starting the front repulsors that would back the ship out of the hangar.

"So we're clear," she wondered edgily, "you _do_ know how to fly, right?"

He answered, "Yeah. Not this _type_ of ship, entirely, but still-"

"Hayram..."

"It'll be fine," he assured her. "It's not that different from other frieghter-sized ships." He tapped a few buttons, rested his right hand on the maneuvering pad, gently backed the ship from the berth without scratching a thing. He grinned at the feeling of power beneath his fingers as the vessel responded to his touch. "See?"

As he rotated the corvette the cockpit gave them a view of the Coruscanti sunset, basking the sky in a swath of reds and oranges. _Angral is out there, somewhere_, he knew, feeling the heaviness of their mission again. _And it's only a matter of time until we face each other..._

"You know..." Kira put a hand to her chin thoughtfully. "We should give the ship a name," she stated.

Hayram inclined his head with a slight grin, his thoughts dragged away from the upcoming dangers and the Lord of Anger. "I was thinking so, too."

"Well, any ideas?"

"Actually..." He looked at her again, saw that she was smiling back. "I thought we'd make it up as we went along."

Her eyes flashed mischievously. "Just the way I like it."

Hayram pushed the throttle forward and the ship flew out of the hangar, rising above the massive cityscape of Coruscant, through the sky and into the stars.

**End Prologue**

**The story will continue in Act One.**

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** There we have it; Prologue is complete. I'd like to take this moment to thank, again, everyone who has read and most especially those who have reviewed. It's you guys who make this an even better experience, and if you liked the story, I urge you to let me know. Your opinions are most certainly welcome.

At this point, there are a few things I want to clear up. I was talking with one of the regular reviewers of the fic who happened to ask about the timeline, so I figured I'd make one here for reader convenience. In SWTOR canon, the class stories supposedly happen over a few years; for the purpose of writing, I'm going to shorten it for Hayram's case.

At this point, the fic has covered the events of five days. Day 1 was when Hayram landed on Tython, Day 2 was his duel with Bengel Moor's apprentice, and Day 3 is when "Apex" begins. The Tython chapters, all eight of them, take place over the span of about twelve hours, with Hayram finding T7 in the early morning. Not entirely crazy once you remember that these are Jedi, and Hayram was extremely active during that timeframe. So, yes, he was Orgus Din's Padawan for perhaps a single day, after which he was promoted to Knight largely because of Satele Shan's influence (I hope that implication was picked up by you all during her chapter). My reasoning is that, having faced the dark side so clearly, Shan felt it no longer necessary to relegate him to Padawan status.

Back to the timeline. Coruscant, on the other hand, takes place over two days. Day 4 is **Cloak**, and Day 5 is covered by the rest of the chapters of the prologue. In fact, this chapter marks the end of Day 5.

So how long is this all going to take? To prevent spoilers for those who don't know the story, I'll keep it general:

Act 1 will be 2-4 months. There will be a month-long interim in between Act 1 and 2.

Act 2 will be nearly six months. It'll make sense when we get there.

Act 3 will begin right after Act 2, and take place over a similar time span to Act 1. In total, Hayram's story will largely take place over about a year of time.

At any rate, thanks again to anyone following or reading, and I hope to read your reviews of the fic so far. Stay tuned, everyone: this is where all the good stuff starts happening. Next up, I should mention, is a new POV.


	17. Utility- Governor Saresh

**Act One: Jedi**

**Utility- Governor Saresh**

Governor Saresh was a busy woman.

Being the overseer of all reconstruction efforts on Taris left her with a considerable amount of assets to juggle and coordinate. The Republic had willing settlers, technology, armed soldiers, but the planet had vast, overgrown forest and swamp, criminal crews that hid amongst the ruins, and rakghouls.

Rakghouls. The bane of her existence, if she felt like being dramatic.

Her life consisted of a pattern; wake, analyze the reports coming in, make decisions, make more decisions,settle some stupid disupute over land, analyze more reports, send out soldiers to clear out ghouls or thugs or whatever other hostile party, make more decisions, stumble into a rack she had dragged into the corner of her office. It was constant, tiring work.

As it was, Saresh was required to be content with four or five hours of sleep a night, scarfing down meals as they came, and generally being so over-focused that when things _did_ deviate from her pattern, she hardly recognized them.

It was why, when two Jedi and an astromech droid came strolling into her office that she waved them aside from her desk when their sentences didn't include words like "dire", "urgent", "rakhgoul", or "died".

"Please direct your inquiries to the sector heads," she muttered as she pored over a report from the field, planning on diverting settlers away from the particular marsh which had been scouted and had been discovered to be some kind of Rakghoul breeding ground.

"Actually, we need information only you can give us."

"The sector heads are quite competent at their jobs." _Damn, not enough men to go around. Hmm. If we pulled a few squads from the front... no, that would only lose more lives once the rakghouls took advantage of the opening. The settlers will just have to be content with what they have for now-_

"But none of them know where Doctor Godera is."

Saresh blinked. "How do you know that na-" she started to demand, then looked up and saw (really saw, not just observed out of the corner of her eye) a young Jedi staring at her with a patient, sympathetic expression on his face. "Oh."

There were two of them: one a tall male, with a built frame and neutral, interesting expression marked by sky-blue eyes and sun-tanned skin. He wore robes of dark brown, a cloak hanging from his shoulders, and carried a single lightsaber which dangled from a utility belt full of pouches and gadgets. The other was a shorter female, nimble-looking and pale with striking red hair that was cut to hang around her face and neck. While she wore robes as well, hers were lighter and had blue and gold highlights; in addition, she carried a double-lightsaber, rather than a standard hilt.

Saresh's mind quickly came to conclusions; these two were not master and student, but rather partners in some kind of mission that had only recently come up, giving the Order little time to prepare. Excellent. She could work with that.

She straightened in her seat, trying to smooth wrinkles out of her standard-issue jumpsuit, having forgone any kind of nicer wear even though she was technically governor of a _planet_. Now she wished that she'd had brought something a little more... official. "Master Jedi, I had no idea you were-"

"Neither did we," he interrupted, and Saresh frowned; nothing irked her more than being interrupted. "It was sort of a sudden assignment. I'm Jedi Knight Hayram Antilles, and this is Padawan Kira Carsen. We're here on behalf of General Var'Suthra, and we need to find Doctor Godera for his aid with a critical mission."

They certainly _were_ young, Saresh mused. _Something is defintly wrong_, she surmised. _Two non-masters here for the most genius weapon designer the Republic has ever been fortunate enough to __have?_ "I see," she said plainly. "Well, you obviously know who I am. Governor Saresh of Taris, pleased to meet you. You said something about Doctor Godera? Why do you need him?

"That's right, ma'am," Antilles continued gratefully with an incline of his head. "We need his help. It's urgent, but I'm afraid we can't tell you specifics."

She smiled thinly at the word. "A lot of things are urgent, Master Jedi. Being governor here teaches you the real meaning of the term."

He frowned. "I didn't mean to imply-"

"I know," she held up a hand, briskly interrupting him in return and transferring the pace control of the discussion to herself. "Godera. Hmm." She reached into her memory, trying to place where the eccentric man had last been spotted. Of course, therein lay the problem; she wasn't truly sure where he had run off to, rambling madly about Imperial trailing him. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid that I do not have the answer you're hoping for."

Antilles and Carsen looked at one another, seemed to shrug in unison. "We're used to setbacks," Carsen informed her. "Hit us."

_Young Jedi, yes, but still potentially useful._ If Saresh had learned anything in her career, it was that every person had value of some kind. Jedi were exponentially more powerful, and could be used in many different ways. And now two young, fresh Jedi had walked into her office in the midst of a reclamation effort full of suffering. _Never look a gift-nerf in the mouth_.

Saresh smiled grimly. "Very well. The truth is that I don't know where Doctor Godera is, and I haven't for nearly a week now."

And as she spoke, she suddenly came up with a idea much better than sending the Jedi out into the wild, waiting to discover their bodies in the coming weeks.

"What about his last location?" Antilles pressed. "Where was he, and what was he doing?"

"He was here as part of the reclamation efforts on Taris," Saresh explained, "and I believe he was also studying the rakghouls for information about their venom. Some new weapon to use against the Imperials, should push come to shove."

"Rakghouls?" Antilles asked.

The droid beside them beeped helpfully, and Saresh filled him in. "Nasty, vile creatures that populate the wilds of Taris. They've been here for a long time, possibly millennia, and consume just about anything living. They also turn that which they don't kill and has sufficient biomass to sustain a transformation." _Here we are, explain the problem, the threat, let him consider the pain..._

"A parasite," he summarized.

"More like a plague," she corrected. "The rakghouls represent the single most drastic threat to our efforts here; they kill civilians and Republic guards every day, and there's no sign of them becoming less numerous."

The Jedi shifted, uncomfortably considering the creatures. "What does this have to do with Godera?" he pressed.

"The last known location of the doctor," she sighed, "was outside the reclamation zone, in rakghoul infested territory. He was sent with a squad of soldiers a week ago, as I said, but we've had no contact since then."

Antilles rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's... going to complicate things."

"Everything is complicated," Saresh stated tiredly, "if you look hard enough. Trust me on that."

"Is there any way we can get to him?"

She shrugged. "You always could march through the wilderness and chop down any 'ghouls that get close, but that's risky. And time-consuming." _Make it clear that his preconceived approach is detrimental..._

"Then what do you propose?"

This was where Saresh _excelled_ at her job; she could give someone what they wanted and ensure, at the same time, that the person _also_ did what she _needed_ them to do. Jedi, she'd learned over her career, were no different, despite what they claimed.

Of course, there was always the danger that the Jedi would die on whatever she sent them to do, but it was necessary. A calculated risk.

"Let me first explain what's occurring outside these walls," she insisted. "Taris was bombed three hundred years ago by a Sith Lord named Darth Malak. When that happened, most life on the planet was destroyed. In the wake of peace with the Empire, the Republic has decided to attempt a recolonization effort. They've sent supplies and people in the ultimate version of a frontier colonization attempt, and I have to coordinate all of that. I have more problems than I can handle, and as a result, we're slipping. If things stay the way they are, we'll be off the planet in a matter of months." A slight embellishment, but helpful for the persuasion.

"I propose," she offered carefully, "that you help us, and in turn we can then help you. The rakghouls are only growing in strength and numbers. If we can stop them at their source, find their lair, eliminate them, or generate a cure, you can forge a path through the forest to find your doctor. Otherwise, you'd be hunting blind. You might find him, certainly, but you also might be wandering out there for weeks without progress." She spread her hands atop her desk. "I can offer you food, shelter, medical supplies, soldier support, anything you need."

Antilles cut to the chase, something that she respected. "You want to hire us, basically," he deduced, crossing his arms.

"Jedi don't get 'hired'," she smoothly rejected. "I'm asking for your assistance because, to be frank, things are getting worse. And if you help me, then I can be in a better position to help you."  
They stared at each other for a long moment, governor and Jedi, and Antilles finally decided, "If that's all true, we'll help. I'll need details."

Carsen rubbed her temple. "Agh, this is not going to sound good to Var'Suthra."

"Nothing we can do about it now," Antilles agreed, then stared hard at Saresh, blue eyes piercing. "But we're going to be clear, here. You may be governor, but our mission is our top priority. I appreciate your work, but we're not under your command."

_This Jedi is different. Interesting... _"I understand," Saresh agreed. _No need to push further than necessary..._ "But... thank you, for your help. Things might finally start to turn up, now that we have Jedi here." _And a little flattery never-_ Antilles frowned, unimpressed. _Ah, I see that didn't quite have the intended effect..._

"I'm going to have a look around," Antilles stated firmly. "See what's going on. If you have a list to get cracking at the rakghouls, I'll take that, too."

"I'll draw one up right away," she smiled.

It was like luck had finally smiled upon her, sending her the perfect tools to fix her problem and get her off this planet and back where she belonged. Once Taris was set, it would be off to Coruscant, and then, perhaps, one day...

Saresh refocused as the two Jedi turned from her office, their little droid trailing after them, and brought up a blank screen on her datapad. _Now, then, a million little problems and a hundred large ones. Have to make certain the new food shipment is properly distributed, send out a patrol to search for the missing one, get a repair crew on the southern water pipe..._

Governor Saresh returned to work. There was still twelve hours left before she could sleep.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** I'm back. Yeah, I skipped a day, and that may happen in the future too, but don't worry too much about it. Usually it just means I was really busy that particular day, and didn't have time to write. But without further ado, we are back, and about to dive into Taris. Hope you're all enjoying it thus far. Also, I wanted to point out that the timeline I posted last chapter was for the _in-story_ timeline, as in, the time frame in which the events happen, not my update schedule, just in case it was confusing.

Also, I changed the prologue's name to "Padawan" to better reflect the name scheme I have going on for the acts.


	18. Unnatural- Kira Carsen

**Unnatural- Kira Carsen**

Taris was a planet full of contradictory scenery.

On the one hand, it was full of overgrown marshes and forest as nature had reclaimed the planet over centuries; on the other, rubble and piles of debris littered the ground, ghosts of the large cities that had once dominated the world before Darth Malak had bombed them into dust. Taris had supposedly once been called "Little Coruscant," for the great cities that had spanned the surface.

Still, it was largely an image of hope as forest spread out from the ruins of permacrete and metal, the sunshine streaming through the large trees above, birds chirping around them as part of the species brought in by the Republic to restore some kind of natural ecosystem.

Kira still hated it.

"We've been here for _five hours_," she gritted out as she stumbled over another long, overgrown root on the marshy ground, "and already I _hate_ this planet." She felt something jab into her leg, a thorn from a fallen branch on one of the large trees that were as common as the remnants of fallen skyscrapers, and cursed, kicking it away with a glare.

Hayram strode ahead of her, looking like he was fulfilling some sort of explorer fantasy; he was using his lightsaber as a makeshift machete, cutting through large vines, branches and other obstacles in their way, using his long legs to step over the smaller things that bothered Kira.

Even she had nothing on T7; the poor droid had been forced to remain behind at the reclamation camp due to the thick foliage. His rolling legs wouldn't permit him to travel far or effectively on the rough, soggy ground, and he had watched them go with such a saddening _twoo_ that it was criminal.

She almost missed another step, caught the edge of a thorny flower on her boot, groaned. "Have I mentioned that I hate this planet?"

"Nope," Hayram replied intuitively. "Please, tell me more."

"You're hilarious. At least T7 gets to hang back and relax."

He snorted. "Right. As if you'd appreciate being left behind. I thought you liked getting out."

"I _do_. I just like being able to _move_ when I travel instead of constantly tripping."

Currently, they were searching for a missing Republic patrol that had stopped checking in a number of hours previously. Supposedly, it had contained a squad of heavily armed and armored soldiers and a small landspeeder for transporting cargo. Saresh hadn't been certain it was a problem but wanted the cargo brought back anyway, if the crew was dead and unable to do so. The cargo was, as Kira recalled, "vital".

"I don't like her," she decided suddenly.

Hayram grunted as he slashed away a thick yellow flower that seemed to reek of something poisonous. "You don't like a lot of things today," he observed.

"She just seems... off," she continued, ignoring his comment.

"She's a politician," he smirked. "They all are."

"Truer words were never spoken," she agreed. "I dunno. I just get the feeling that if it benefited her, she'd toss us out the airlock without a second's thought."

Hayram paused, considering. "I know what you feel," he replied slowly, eyes distant, "but I think she's focused more on the overall Republic than just her. Maybe her ego and the well-doing of the Republic are too entwined for it to have any meaningful difference, but..."

"You're saying you think she'd toss us, but for the Republic?"

"Sort of. Wouldn't you?"

Kira frowned. "Well... I suppose so. I hadn't thought about it."

"Hmm."

"Well of _course_ you have. You're just a Force-forsaken ray of broody sunshine."

They chuckled, proceeding, just as something shifted in the Force and Kira called her lightsaber to her hand, activating it instantly.

"You feel that?" he asked tensely, holding his saber across his chest defensively.

She nodded, reaching out into the currents of Force energy and feeling them carefully. "Something happened," she whispered. "Death, recent. I can still feel the..."

"Echoes," he concurred. "This way." He moved through a series of bushes, eyes alert and ready for movement.

Kira kept her own senses peeled. Whatever had happened was brutal, violent in the extreme. Different, too. Violence had its own signature of pain and fear, but this... this was something more animal. Primal.

It sent shivers crawling up her spine.

"There," Hayram pointed, and she looked; ahead of them, on a lousy trail chopped up by marching boots over weeks of travel, was a series of bodies thrown around a deactivated landspeeder. She could see instantly the white-and-blue armor of the Republic soldiers, their weapons left strewn around them, no blaster wounds evident. It spoke of something other than humanoid attacking them.

"The wildlife," Kira guessed darkly. "Or those... ghouls she told us about."

"I'd venture the ghouls," he replied. "I still feel something... wrong. Corrupted, almost."

The two Jedi moved to the dead convoy, Kira peeking into the landspeeder. "Looks like those power cells Saresh wanted are still here," she reported. "Chances of this being raiders look null."

"Do you hear that?" he whispered suddenly, cutting her off with a swipe of his hand through the air.

She cocked her head, straining her ears. "No."

"Exactly. It's silent."

It was; the birds had ceased their songs. The only sound was that of their own breathing and... something else.

"The men," she pointed out, and he looked. The soldiers were all dead, their armor all punctured and clawed through with what had to be large talons and teeth. Many had bite marks on their necks, bits of flesh strewn from their throats and leaving gaping holes.

"Why did the beasts leave them?" he wondered. "Why kill and move on?"

Somewhere around them a branch cracked and both Jedi moved, placing their backs to each other, listening, waiting, watching the foliage and bushes around the convoy.

Kira steadied herself, reaching into the Force for power and calming her heart. _Come on out,_ she though anxiously. _You might be tough, but you're nothing compared to a Sith Lord..._

A whisper in the breeze, not from the Force but from her own ears...

Her violet blade intercepted something grey and fleshy launching itself from the brush, slicing it cleanly in half and leaving both chunks smoldering on the muddy ground. The top half, the one with a grotesque, alien head, twitched momentarily before stilling.

"Is that...?" She swallowed.

"A rakghoul," Hayram decided, gripping his lightsaber tighter.

Suddenly a raspy, wet growling began to sound from the brush, coming from all sides and magnified by many primal voices at once. The noise seemed to still the air, deadening it to life and reaching inside Kira's chest and freezing her heart.

"This ought to be fun," she snapped, forcing the fear aside.

The rakghouls leapt from the brush at once, a tidal wave of gnashing teeth and streaking claws. It was hard to move fast enough to avoid them, especially since they came from many different sides, and Kira quickly leapt high into the sky and landed outside their swarm and slice them in pieces from behind. The rakghouls scampered around her like demented Kowakian monkey lizards, trying to grab at her legs and bite her throat; she stopped them with quick strikes of her blade, nimbly slicing at their skulls and chests.

Hayram was more steady, remaining in place and letting the Rakghouls come to him, cutting them down one by one with heavy, broad strokes like he was chopping wood, never moving more than was needed to halt their advance toward him.

Together, both Jedi made short work of the creatures, though they were both alert and somewhat drained from the sudden exertion.

Still, Kira took one look at the dead monsters and grinned. "Heh. I guess we're the new apex predator, huh?"  
Hayram turned but didn't answer, cocked his head, then threw his lighsaber at her.

Or rather, it seemed like he did; the glowing green blade actually darted right past her shoulder to decapitate a rakghoul that had jumped at her from behind, having not been with the main pack. The head and body of the creature fell to the floor, skidding through the dirt to rest at her feet, and Hayram's lightsaber returned to his belt in the same instant.

Kira gaped, then whirled and watched for more. Thankfully, there were no further attacks. "I... I didn't feel it coming," she breathed.

Hayram nodded. "Neither did I. I just saw it first. Almost didn't." He shook his head. "We didn't even feel when they were about to attack."

"That... doesn't make sense," she protested. "Why wouldn't we be able to sense Rakghouls unless..."

"Unless they were full of the dark side," he finished. "I don't know. But something is off about them. Nature wouldn't create this kind of... thing." Kira knew he was right; the rakghoul wasn't like any other creature native to Taris, with its oily gray skin and brutal hunting habits. It was no wonder that the ecosystem was taking so long to recover. Any other animal would surely be bested by the beasts' strength and speed. And if they were imbued with the dark side, Kira knew, it would mist their perception in the Force.

Hayram toed a corpse with his foot. "This has to be Sith in origin."

"These creatures have been on the planet for centuries," she said. "That would mean they originated during the old wars."

"Yeah." He sighed and began to pick up Republic bodies, trying to stack them as reverently as possible in the back seat next to the power cells. "I guess now we have even more questions."

Kira stared back at the rakghoul that had almost finished her, looked into its dead, misty eyes and shivered. _Dark side pets... yeesh..._

"For the record," she stated after they'd recovered the soldiers' bodies and climbed into the speeder, "now I _really_ hate this planet."

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** Always hated rakghuls in the games. Creepy bastards.

Anyhow, Taris is now fully underway. In case anyone is wondering, I'm planning on making it another seven to eight chapters long, then a short interim before Nar Shaddaa.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and if you liked the story please let me know! Hearing what you all think brightens my day to no end.

Also, if any of you have an idea for a POV for Taris or a prompt idea or a scenario idea, let me know and if I use it I'll credit you at the end of the vignette.


	19. Torch- The Settlers

**Torch- The Settlers**

Being a teenager on Taris was the worst thing Mira had ever known. When her dad had brought them out here from Corellia, she'd _known_ it was going to be all kinds of hell, full of hard labor and boredom and a complete lack of anything interesting. Their outpost was small and many miles from the main reclamation base, so all there was to do was farm or clear land or fix machines that had broken.

But when _Jedi_ had been spotted on Taris, she started wondering if they'd ever show up. _That_ was something amazing, something exciting. They did, but not in the way she'd hoped.

Mira had always thought that the things the Jedi did were mythical, legendary, stuff that moms and dads told you before bed when you were worried that the Empire was coming to _your_ planet like the one you'd heard about on the holonet. As she'd grown older, she'd realized that such tales were probably exaggerated, fantasies created in order to boost public support or morale or some other kind of garbage. Still, she'd wondered if maybe the tales weren't so tall, the fables really truth.

It wasn't until later that she'd been proven right.

It wasn't until their camp had been invaded by howls in the night, growling gray beasts lumbering in from the forests around them. Their guard, her _father_, had cried for help, screamed as fleshy rips sounded in the night, and Mira had bolted from her prefab shelter, still in her night robe, to grab for her blaster and rush outside, to see if her father was alright.

All through the seconds, her mind had screamed, _Ohdadohdadohdadohdad... Dad please be okay... Dad... please..._

It wasn't until a 'ghoul had spawned from the shadows itself and landed upon her, great maw open wide as her blaster went skidding-

Mira thought that she was going to die, as the mouth descended...

It wasn't until a glowing blade, violet and full of life, sprouted from the thing's chest and felled it, flying through the air to the hand that wielded it to cut down another in a graceful sweep. The Jedi was fast and deadly, a scarlet-haired angel that crushed anything that tried to approach Mira or the others of their camp.

It wasn't until the Jedi _danced_ instead of rushed around their camp, shouting out to call the Rakghouls to her, daring them to challenge her, taking them _all_ on and spinning and striking and whirling in a blaze of color and light and power...

When she stood after it was over, amidst a pile of bodies, lightsaber in hand, none the worse for wear, Mira realized that she had been right all along.

**(O)(O)(O)**

Ruk shivered in the cold, blaster trained on the shadows.

It had been too long; Sullustan eyes weren't made to stay open for days on end, for kriff's sake. Yet here he was, standing at his post in armor he hadn't cleaned in a week and without a decent meal in at least that long. The rest of his squad either slumbered, trying to catch a few hours of sleep before the next sunrise, or stood with him, spaced at intervals around their walker.

The walker... their last bastion of hope and safety. And their damned mission.

"Kriffing Governor," Ruk snapped under his breath. "She can take her kriffing walker and patrol _herself_. She how she likes the ghouls..."

Two more days. Two more Force-forsaken days and then they'd be back. _But then what?_ a small voice in his head asked. _Then where will you be sent? The same sector? One deeper? No, you'll get a __**swamp**__, because __**that**__ would be kriffing __**lovely**__..._

Something rustled in the dark beyond their camp, the small, flickering flames of their fire not enough to allow Ruk to see into the forest. "Who's there!?" he demanded, shivering again.

Another shift, a branch cracking, a bush pushed to the side...

Ruk barked, "Stop! I'll shoot!" _I won't let them get me, I won't, I won't..._

A bar of green light sprouted in the air. "Please don't do that," a human voice asked, and the green blade moved to illuminate a human face.

Ruk stared, jaw dropping. "Jedi?" he mumbled.

"I'm Hayram Antilles," the Jedi announced as he approached their walker and makeshift camp. "I need your help."

Help? Jedi? Move? In the night? Ruk shook his head. "No, no..." he trailed off tiredly. "I... you have no idea what you're asking. Who are you?"

"Governor Saresh sent me-"

"_Governor_ Saresh." Ruk spat on the ground as his squadmates, humans and twi'leks and a zabrak. "She's the entire reason we're here, _still_ on patrol. Because she doesn't have anyone else to guard the sector. You want to know why, Jedi?" He paused for dramatic effect. "They were _eaten_."

The Jedi frowned deeply, and Ruk noticed that he kept his saber activated. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said earnestly. "Sir, I know things are rough right now, but there's a settler camp that's been attacked a ways away. If we can get this walker over there now, we can transport the settlers back to the main restoration zone and-"

"Saresh'll never stand for it!" Ruk snapped. "Someone _has_ to patrol this zone!"

Something in the Jedi's face hardened. "Leave Saresh to me," he stated firmly. "But I can't get those people without your help. If we don't get them out of there, they'll be eaten, too."

"What about _us?_" Ruk demanded. Screw being charitable, he'd more than given his fair share to the Republic. "Sorry, Jedi, but I'm not too keen on being 'ghoul-food."

The Jedi shook his head. "I'll protect you. No one's going to die tonight as long as I'm here."

Ruk had every reason to ignore the request and go back to guarding their camp, trying to work in his own few hours of sleep. He had no idea what the job would entail and no reason to follow the Jedi into the nightmare of the forest.

But there was something in his voice, something in his _eyes. _And somehow Ruk believed him.

**(O)(O)(O)**

Tarl hated being woken up in the middle of the night. He _especially_ hated it when he was woken up because damnable Rakghouls were responsible.

That was the whole reason he'd come to Taris in the first place; it'd be a simple life, nice and quiet, and he could use his balding, fifty-something body to help _build_ something instead of destroying it; he'd seen enough explosions and death in his time as a Republic soldier in the _last_ war.

Yet here he was, surrounded by Rakghoul bodies with his fellow settlers while some little Jedi upstart gave them orders.

"My friend is bringing help," the Jedi was saying to the assembled, hands on her hips. A motley crew, those people. Tarl liked them, mostly, even Mira (though she could be obnoxiously irritating). They were hardy folk, suited for living rough in the frontier; it was why they'd volunteered to set up their small outpost at the edge of colonized land, as a staging ground for future construction.

Now they were all shivering, grasping each other and listening to the Jedi raptly. Twenty of the bravest souls Tarl had known, reduced to little more than infants in a single strike.

_Rakghouls. Worse, in some ways, than even the Sith._

Grumpily, he raised a hand. "Can we ask questions?" he interjected.

The Jedi woman raised a curved brow. "Shoot," she replied.

"How exactly are we leaving?" He gestured around himself. "We only have a few small speeders. Only a few lights from our tools. You propose we walk _through_ the forest right now?"

"Those monsters are out there!" a woman shrieked, grasping her teenage daughter to her. "We can't leave now!"

"We should wait for daylight!"

"More are coming," the Jedi told them calmly, but forcefully. "Listen."

Suddenly the group fell quiet, and they did.

Growls, low hums and hisses that seemed to come from the air itself... it sent chills up Tarl's spine, and he wished he was holding a rifle.

"We have to leave as soon as help comes," the Jedi continued. "My friend is bringing a vehicle that'll protect you."

"But until then?" Mira wondered from the group, opposite of Tarl. She was holding herself, eyes stained with tears, and Tarl remembered her father had been the guard. _Damn. Poor kid..._

"Until then, we hold down the fort," the Jedi answered without hesitation, lightsaber springing to life in her hand. "I'll keep you safe as best as I can. Get back inside your shelter. I'll call you when help arrives."

The settlers looked even more frightened now, scurrying away back to their prefabs to lock their doors that wouldn't stand up forever to Rakghoul claws. They'd hide and hope and close their eyes, waiting for a savior.

Tarl went back to his shelter, retrieved the small blaster he had in his locker, and moved out to stand beside the Jedi, staring into the night.

"Nice of you to join me, gramps," she smirked.

So she was one of _those_. He grunted, then stiffened at the sound of a howl in the distance. "Tell me something, Jedi," he murmured. "You afraid right now?"

"Terrified," she concurred without hesitation, though she bore it with dignity, and discipline.

She'd have made a fine soldier. "Me too," Tarl agreed, and stood watch.

**(O)(O)(O)**

Knax was suddenly very, very glad that he'd signed up to be the walker pilot. The small rodian stared out the viewport of his massive machine, saw the convoy of Republic soldiers in armor and the Jedi with the green lightsaber leading the way, and sighed in relief that at least _he_ was protected inside layers of armor and a few meters off the ground.

It helped that he had a giant gun to tote around, too. The rest of the squad called it divine justice that he drove the big machine while being so small in stature.

"We're close," the Jedi said through the comlink he'd been given, linked to the whole squad. "Be ready."

"Why're there so many 'ghouls here?" Lieutenant Ruk asked grimly, sighting down his rifle sight.

"Not sure," the Jedi admitted. "I think these people just went too far. The Rakghouls get more numerous the further out you go."

"How long've you been assigned here?"

"Two days."

The Lieutenant gawked, and Knax hummed in appreciation, then spotted a flash of light in the distance.

A flash of light that illuminated a series of small structures in the distance. Prefabricated units, probably.

"A flare?" Ruk asked.

"Let's move!" the Jedi barked, and charged, the Republic troops suddenly spurred into action and running with him.

And Knax kicked the walker into overdrive, plodding the giant legs forward and trampling over fallen trunks and through mud and slushy green plantlife. It would have been dramatically impressive had he not been moving so slowly. _Ah well. Still, giant gun_, he mused.

What Knax _did_ get from being so high off the ground was a front-row seat at divine intervention. By the time he'd arrived at the shelter, the battle was in full swing; a 'ghoul swarm had rushed the outpost, and both Jedi were in the thick of things. There were so many rakghouls, so many fleshy blobs of gray that the Jedi were only really visible because of their lightsabers, emerald and amethyst.

Knax stared at the beauty of it.

The Rakghouls came in droves, gnashing and biting at the Jedi, who stood back-to-back in the middle of the swarm, cutting them down elegantly, precisely, _epically_. The Republic squad opened fire on those 'ghouls away from the melee, blasting them to bits before they could close, and one of the settlers had even joined in with a small hand-held weapon.

Still... watching the Jedi was like watching a movie. Knax was transfixed.

"Knax!" Ruk shouted over the din, and the rodian jumped in his seat. "Fire, damn it!"

_Oh, right. Big gun._ Knax swiveled the cannon into the section of the forest where the tidal wave of monsters seemed thickest, pulled the trigger, and the walker's cannon discharged a blaster bolt wider than a man into the trees. It exploded spectacularly, igniting the night and sending a shockwave into the outpost.

The Rakghouls screeched again, but now they started to run, scampering off en masse into the shadows from whence they came.

Knax yelped victoriously. "They're retreating!" he announced. "Running off like dogs!"

"Thanks for that assist, Private," the male Jedi said, giving him a salute from his position on the ground.

Knax inclined his head happily and saluted back.

**(O)(O)(O)**

If they had been anything but Jedi, Mira would have been worried for them. Saresh looked furious, enraged and staring at them like she might explode in a fiery inferno.

Yet the Jedi stood there, glaring back, waiting for her to run out of breath.

It had been a miracle; the dawn was just now starting to rise, the Tarisian sun peeking over the horizon and casting the reclamation base in an earthy warm glow. Mira sat on a bench near the medical center, a cup of caffa in her hand, tired but grateful to be far away from their outpost.

It seemed so incredible that they'd made it, that _she'd_ made it, after that Rakghoul had pounced on her...

_Oh, Dad..._ She felt her eyes well again, burn from tears that threatened to fall. _I'm sorry, Dad..._ More than anything, she wished that he'd been there, an arm around her shoulder.

She shivered again as a man sat beside her. Tarl, she recognized after a moment.

"How're you holding up, kid?" the older man said gruffly.

She shrugged weakly, sniffled. "A little shaken up, I guess."

He "hmmed" in response, sipping his own drink, though she could tell it wasn't caffa.

"You've set us back another _week_!" Saresh shouted at the Jedi.

Tarl chuckled. "I don't think she knows it yet, but she's starting quite the show." He pointed out the group of soldiers enjoying the scene as well, clustered around a tent across the road.

Mira smiled slightly, in spite of herself. "Guess they're glad to be back."

"I'll say. And no matter what, they win. They're heroes, and even if Saresh sends them packing they get to leave." Tarl shook his head. "Jedi."

Mira looked at him. "Yeah, I know what you mean."  
He raised a brow. "Do you?"

"I don't care!" the male Jedi suddenly snapped, his voice echoing across the courtyard, and everyone stared, waiting. "You've endangered innocent lives, _Governor_. They're not going back, no matter how much you need to expand. You take things slow, and you go at a pace you and _your people_ can control. You don't endanger them needlessly."

"Here's what you missed," the female Jedi continued false-sweetly. "Rakghouls are dangerous. If you keep throwing men at them, you'll just keep losing them. They're bad news, and need to be taken care of before you try to plant more outposts. It's not that difficult to work out."

Saresh's eyes boggled. "Remember who you're talking to-"

"Right now I'm speaking to a publicly-certified kath _bitch_," the female Jedi corrected, crossing her arms.

Silence, so thick Mira could cut it with a knife. Tarl whistled.

"Let me be clear," the male said after a moment, when it was clear that Saresh didn't know how to respond. "We're here to help. But _if_ you want our assistance, we do things the _right_ way."

"Your way," the governor gritted out.

The Jedi shook his head. "Take care of these people. We'll be back with more information on where the Rakghouls are coming from." He and his partner moved to mount a pair of speeder bikes hovering near the entrance to the base as Saresh growled and turned on her heel, marching back into her office.

Mira sprang up from her feet, rushing to them, a sudden desire rushing throug her. "Hey!" she called. "Wait!"  
She reached them at the bikes, out of breath. "You alright?" the woman asked.

"Yeah... I just..." Mira took a breath. "You're going back out there?" she blurted in disbelief.

"More work to do," the male shrugged, mounting his speeder.

"Can I know your names?"

The woman smiled. "Name's Kira. The tough guy is Hayram."

Mira smiled back. "Hey... why'd you guys come here?"

Both Jedi looked at one another, before Hayram responded, "We're here to help," he said simply.

"Just your friendly-nieghborhood Jedi," Kira added, clambering onto her own bike. "Stay safe out there, kiddo." And they blasted off into the distance.

Tarl placed a hand on her shoulder, having walked over slowly. "Jedi," he nodded, satisfied.

"Jedi," Mira repeated, the word rolling on her tongue. "...Wow..."

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** Sorry about the delay, guys. I was finishing my Knight's story, and he just completed it. So there we are. Also, life got a little busy, but I'm back! With a long chapter this time!

I'll try to keep the updates coming frequently once again. Thanks to everyone who reviewed thus far. And if you like something in the story, let me know! Last chapter got one review, but hundreds of views; it was tragic.


	20. Spat- Kira Carsen

**Spat- Kira Carsen**

He still hadn't slept.

Normally Kira didn't worry, but hell, she was _kind of _worried at this point.

"The _Spire_ should be up over this ridge," Hayram muttered lowly, trudging over a tangle of roots and long branches.

She nodded mutely, twisting her way over the organic debris as she stared at the Jedi Knight's back. _Force, three days, at least. He's going to burn out._ It was almost as though Hayram had a _need_ to keep going, to forget to rest. Every time they went back to the base he generated a grim disposition (well, grimmer than usual), and it didn't disappear until they found a new mission to attack.

Granted, Kira hadn't been sleeping that much either over the past three weeks, but at least she rested and took breaks. Hayram just kept going. He'd taken at least a half-dozen small errands or search-and-rescue missions without her.

_It's like he's terrified of waiting, or something..._

"So..." she started uncertainly, eying his stance as they moved to gauge his reaction. "After we've helped these people, you going to get a little shut-eye, tough guy?"

He shook his head. "We've got to deal with the mercenaries who took over the camp to the east after this."

"Well, maybe I should head out there and you go back to base to recover for a little while." They reached the top of the ridge, stopped for a moment to catch their breaths. "Sleeping is good, you know."

"I've got the Force," he countered, beginning to trek down the slope, and Kira sighed, shaking her head.

The wreckage of the _Endar Spire_ was a chaotic jumble of old hull and green and brown plantlife slowly easing into the hulk of the vessel; nature was slowly claiming the remnants of the cruiser for its own, over centuries. Kira whistled as she stared up at the ghost of a ship. "Wow. Can't believe it's still here, after all this time. Didn't you say something about Revan is connected with this ship?"

"Hmm?"

"_Revan_," she said exasperatedly. "Your idol. You know, the one you were telling me about a few days ago?"

"Oh." He blinked, rubbed at his forehead. "Yeah. Revan. He was with Bastila Shan on the _Spire_. It was the ship Malak attacked in an attempt to capture her." His step stumbled a bit, catching on a stray branch as he moved down the slope, and he pitched forward.

Kira caught his arm. "Whoa there," she hissed. "Alright, seriously?"

"I'm fine," he diverted, moving away from her grip. "Just lost my step." _Men. Some things are universal..._

"Fine," she sighed, holding her hands up.

In the minutes it took for them to find a porthole in the hull to clamber inside, Kira could sense a few flickering lives inside the hull, fearful and wary. _Those have to be the Republic troops..._ Cutting their way into a corridor beneath a service conduit with Hayram's lightsaber, the two Jedi dropped down into the belly of the ancient ship.

Kira looked around, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia. "Warship architecture hasn't changed much," she mused. She peered at the glowing lights of the ceiling. "Looks like the engineers got the power core running."

"Looks like it," Hayram affirmed, moving down the corridor, Kira following.

As they walked, she pondered the time they were running out of. As pressing as the problems on Taris were, the longer it took to find Goldera would directly influence the length of time it took to find the weapons Angral was planning to use. They'd already been on Taris for three weeks; any longer and she felt that it would be pushing their (admittedly bad) luck.

"Did you hear anything more about the doctor from Saresh?" she inquired.

Hayram shook his head. "She's diverting," he answered.

"Perfect. I say we head out and find him ourselves."  
"Pfft. It's a planet. How do you suppose we do that?"

Kira shrugged. "He had to have left clues. It's not like he could have just... disappeared."

"Maybe not, but still..."

"You can't fix everything, you know," she blurted, before she decided not too.

He swallowed, eyes narrowing. "I'm not trying to fix everything," he corrected.

Whatever hesitation had been brewing in Kira evaporated like mist on a hot day. "I'm sorry," she said snidely, "I must have mistaken your constant running around answering to people like a pet kowakian monkey-lizard for something _relevant_ to the mission."  
Hayram stared at her with a glare. "Wait a minute, now _you're_ the focused one?"

"I'm _compensating_ for someone's stubborn thick-headedness," she shot back.

His mouth creased into a frustrated line. "I'm just doing what has to be-"

"No, you're not!" she interrupted, throwing her hands up. "Hayram, you're making _mistakes_. That last patrol we rescued? You almost chopped the arm off a man! And the rakghoul den we took out? Do you even _realize_ how many _I_ stopped from tearing off your head?"

"Why didn't you say anything before?" he challenged.

"I thought you'd figure it out on your own. Didn't realize you needed a babysitter."

"A _baby_-"

"Um..." A deep voice sounded from the end of the corridor, hesitant and confused. Hayram and Kira whirled to stare at the man there, a dark-skinned Republic soldier. "Uh... are you the Jedi we were told were coming?" He pointed, eyes flickering to the lightsabers they carried.

Hayram shook off his earlier frustration, refocusing, and Kira rolled her eyes. "We're them," he said immediately. "You have the rest of your men with you?"

"Yeah..." The soldier raised a brow. "You two ok-"

"We're fine," Hayram interrupted. "Tell us what you need."

"Right... Well, we've got to get to the central computer core," the soldier continued. "If we can do that, we can siphon everything the Republic knew about rakghouls and use it in the field. Problem is, the mercs that have holed up down there aren't packing pea-shooters."  
"Sounds terrific," Kira muttered. "So, how far is this computer core?"

"'Bout half-way down the ship's length. We didn't make it far in."

Hayram and Kira looked at one another. "Well, then," Hayram said, igniting his saber with a _snap-hiss_, "let's get going. Your men stay behind us."

**(O)(O)(O)**

"You're an idiot!" Kira shouted, snapping her violet blade around to catch a bolt that would have hit Hayram's shoulder.

"You're a pain!" Hayram barked back, doing his best to keep up with the flurry of shots coming down the corridor, courtesy of the mercenary in heavy armor toting a blaster cannon with both hands. The zabrak was cackling madly, firing in wide sweeps and focusing on one of the Jedi every few seconds. The bolts were coming at them so quickly and there were so many that it was all they could do to divert the bolts, let alone reflect them back.

"_Why_ didn't you let me use my stealth generator?" she snapped.

"Too dangerous," he responded, gritting his teeth as he caught three bolts and threw them up into the ceiling.

"And marching out in front like this _isn't_?" Kira's eyes widened incredulously. "Stand back, I've got this." She moved to put a foot in front of Hayram, eyes narrowed at their enemy.

The fool shouldered past her, taking measured steps toward the zabrak, who saw his doom approaching in the form of green plasma and intensified his assault, the barrel of his cannon glowing red with heat buildup.

Kira growled, then spotted the barrel. _Perfect._ She turned, marched towards the line of Republic soldiers who were crouched behind a series of debris and rubble from the ship. "You!" she snapped, pointing at a private. He jumped at her demand. "Give me your blaster."

The private looked to their sergeant, who shrugged, and the blaster was slapped into her palm. Kira deactivated her saber and hooked it took her belt, took aim with the pistol and fired.

The bolt streamed through the corridor, beneath Hayram's arm and directly into the barrel of the overheated cannon. The blast caused the weapon to burst in a hailstorm of hot metallic shards, and the stream of bolts ceased.

Hayram and the zabrak looked at each other, and the zabrak realized that he had an urgent appointment elsewhere, taking off down the side corridor and screaming for his life.

Hayram whirled on her. "You almost hit me!"

"I didn't," she shrugged nonchalantly, handing the private back his blaster. "Thanks." The private nodded, more interested in the very _un-Jedi_ like behavior in front of him.

"That was too risky," he lectured, marching toward her.

"You weren't going to make it," she retorted, matching his motion, the both of them coming face to face.

"I had it under control."

"You had _nothing_ under-" Kira saw a slight motion behind her, spotted the grenade launcher the zabrak now held in his hands.

It was pointed right at Hayram's back.

"Grenade!" the Republic sergeant shouted, and his men took cover.

Hayram didn't move, his reactions dulled, and Kira shoved him aside, hands outstretched...

The grenade stopped just short of her breast, hovering dangerously above her palms, the grenade rotating violently as she kept its momentum maintained as best as she could. Gritting her teeth, she turned the grenade with a flick of her mind and smiled at the mercenary, who paled.

She flung the grenade straight back into his chest; the zabrak exploded in a flash of yellow light, the smell of his charred body filling the corridor, and the Republic troops looked up, grinning.

"That was _amazing_!"

"Holy Corellian Hells!"

"_Damn_, now I've seen Jedi in action!"

Hayram was still on the ground, looking back and forth between Kira and the place where the zabrak _had_ been. "Uh..." he managed.

"Shut up," she sniffed, marching past him. "Come on, boys, we've got a computer core to ransack."

**(O)(O)(O)**

One computer core datamined, one _Endar Spire_ escaped from, one more mission complete. Kira had led the way back with the convoy of Republic soldiers, Hayram trailing behind. She'd smiled the entire way.

Now, back at the reclamation base, she raised an eyebrow as the Jedi moved to sit beside her on the small bench, along the side of the main dirt road of the complex. She felt the slight tension in the air, as though there was a taut wire between them that could snap. He clasped his hands, looking a little cowed. "Hey, listen, thanks for-"

"You saved me from the Flesh Raiders," she pointed out. "We're even."

A tiny smirk emerged from the corner of his lips. "Actually, I saved you from a rakghoul, too..."

"Fine, smartass," she chuckled. "I'll be sure to keep track, like you _apparently_ do."

Just like that, the tension vanished.

"Look," he said, still smiling slightly, "I... think I'm just a little... overwhelmed."

"Uh huh."

"And that I feel like there's too much to do and if I spend time resting, it's wasted time. There are people that need help."

Her face softened as she empathized. _Ah, this guy thinks way too much for his own good._ "There are always people that need help," she told him gently.

He frowned, the smile dissipating. "I know."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. We're doing good, here. Look around you." She raised a brow at his skeptical expression. "Look around you, Padawan."

He humored her, gazing around the base, and it had the intended effect; as he looked, really _saw_ all the people there because of them, troops and settlers and children and parents who would have been eaten by rakghouls or killed be mercenaries, his eyes widened and she could almost _feel_ that invisible weight lift off his shoulders.

"That's us," she said with satisfaction. "Not perfect, but pretty good, if you ask me." And she leaned back on the bench with her arms crossed, smirking.

He blinked, considering. "Huh."

"Uh huh."

"Well... But what about those settlers who need-"

"I'm on it." Kira nodded at the men approaching her; a squad of Republic soldiers, lieutenant Ruk at their head. "Nice to see you guys. Ready to crack some merc heads?"

"Always," the sullustan replied with his fleshy equivalent of a grin.

Kira regarded Hayram expectantly. _Come on, you can do it..._

He relented. "I'll go to ship and get some rest."

_Yes!_ "Atta boy," she congratulated, standing with her squad that she had commandeered from Saresh. _She probably won't be happy, but ah well._ "Then we're out of here. See you tonight."

He nodded, still looking a bit unhappy with being left behind, but as she left with her men and moved for the gate, she also saw something else flash across his features.

Gratitude. _Any time, tough guy._

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: **So, I like this vignette. Hopefully you, my awesome readers, will as well.

I think the next few Taris chapters will be from the POVs of Watcher One, Saresh, and Hayram. Kira is taking a break for the next four, at least.

Thanks to everyone for the reviews and kind words! If you like something in the story, let me know. Stay tuned, everyone; we're moving right along.


	21. Angle- Watcher One

**Angle- Watcher One**

Watcher One frowned at the field report that was clasped between his gloved hands. Three more patrols dead, all killed with marks of a lightsaber scorching their bodies, and the men containing the serum he had requested were delayed or worse; all evidence suggested that it was highly possible they too had been intercepted by the lightsaber-wielding interloper.

_Jedi_, he mused. _Such an invigorating challenge._ "Fixer Eight, I need you to patch me through to Keeper."  
The young, blonde-haired man looked at One with surprise, then hesitation. "Sir? Keeper gave us orders not to be disturbed-"

"I am aware," One acknowledged professionally, clasping his hands behind his back as he strode away from his desk to gaze at Doctor Godera, imprisoned on the operating bed mounted against the wall of their small base. The old man was asleep, sheer exhaustion having claimed his body hours ago. "However, there has been a development he must be made aware of and we may need assistance in the matter."

Eight considered, then inclined his head. "Very well, sir," he responded, moving to the holocomm in the center of the base and tapping controls into its apparatus.

One looked at Godera in the eye, appraising him. _Such a fuss for one man. If you had been born an Imperial, you'd have been one of the greatest Intelligence operatives ever born._

"The signal is coming in, sir."

Watcher One moved to stand before the hologram of Keeper, the balding man appearing stern as he gazed down at his subordinate, who saluted smartly. The man before him was second only to the Minister of Intelligence himself, exceptionally smart and cunning to boot. Without a doubt, there were few that One respected more. "Watcher One. I gave you direct orders to avoid contact. The Republic could very well intercept this transmission."

"I remember, sir," One agreed. "However, I thought it prudent to report that at least one Jedi Knight has landed on Taris and is apparently searching for clues amongst the bodies of my men, no doubt looking for our doctor."

Keeper's frown deepened, and he raised a hand to his chin. "Interesting. After all this time, they are now once more invested in Godera. Something must have occurred." Watcher One could see the gears in Keeper's head turning, began to perform his own analysis.

"It is certainly an indication that they are moving towards an attitude more conducive to open war," he said carefully.

"The Republic is," Keeper confirmed crisply, "but this is not a symptom. While you've been on Taris for the past months tracking the doctor down, events in the larger galaxy have been occurring that are most troublesome."

Watcher One frowned to match Keeper; if something had the brilliant man worried, it was worth noting.

"Darth Angral has recently been creating a superweapon mounted on his flagship in an attempt to spark total war between the Empire and the Republic. Many of the components of this weapon use Doctor Godera's technology or theories."

Watcher One caught on instantly. "Therefore the Jedi intend to use the Doctor to combat this threat. I see."

"While Angral's tactics are crude and dramatic, we cannot act decisively until we know more. Until I do, your mission has been upgraded to Status Five. This is now a top priority assignment, and it is of the utmost importance that the Jedi does not interfere with your work."

"That was why I called you, sir," Watcher One continued. "I wish to request for a Cipher to deal with the Jedi."

Keeper shook his head. "Impossible at the moment, I'm afraid. All Ciphers are currently preoccupied. Our newest, Cipher Nine, has just left Dromund Kaas for a mission that is of similar priority. We have no more resources that we can transfer to you save something such as a warship, which would defeat the purpose."

Watcher One nodded. "Very well. Then I request clearance to begin interdiction operations against the Jedi if necessary."

Keeper's reply was instant. "Granted. You must succeed, Watcher One. If there are any further developments forward them along the standard reports. Keeper out." The older man vanished in a haze of blue, and Watcher One turned to Fixer Eight. "Fixer, I want a layout of all the locations the Jedi has been on a map in the next hour. In addition, find a capable agent and have them tail the Jedi; I want a profile, fighting style, personality. If we are to combat this threat, information will certainly be power."

Information was always power, One reflected as the Fixer ran off to his duties. No matter how powerful one was, with the right intelligence any weakness could be exploited. Even the Emperor was not invincible; it was merely that Imperial Intelligence had not yet been assigned to kill him.

This Jedi may be dangerous, but was hardly going to stop them now that they had time to prepare. Watcher One returned to his desk and began to sift through the datapads containing their latest reports from the reclamation base, courtesy of their moles. One of them, belonging to a soldier named Ruk, was of particular value; it detailed Governor Saresh's new policies on patrols. Apparently, something had urged her to become less bold. Perhaps it was the rakghouls.

Or perhaps, One's trained mind noted, it was something more along the lines of the Jedi.

Fixer Eight returned within the hour with the map as promised with a datapad containing the known locations of the dead patrols and extrapolations of likely routes of travel. It seemed the interloper had been all over the continent in the past month, including the wreckage of the _Endar Spire_.

A stirring from the table to the side made One's head turn to Godera, observing the doctor neutrally as the man awoke from his tired slumber. "Yo-... You..." he gritted out, eyes narrowing in recognition. "I should've known it wasn't a bad dream."

"Come now, Doctor," Watcher One replied calmly, standing to move to stand before his captive. "We've been most hospitable."

"Hospitable?!" Godera barked, voice echoing around the compound; a few of the Intelligence agents turned at the sound, then ignored the old man. "Is that what you call invading my base and _executing_ my men?!"

"It was hardly an execution," One debated rationally. "We gave you a chance to surrender, and you opened fire. We did what was necessary to defend ourselves."

"I'd never surrender to the likes of you."

"Ah, and _there_ is the crux of the difference between us, my good Doctor," Watcher One sighed. "Where you are set, narrow-minded and immovable in your views, I see everything. The universe is possibility, and I will never turn away a potentiality because of the past."

Godera turned his head away, clenching his fists and straining against his bonds. "The past is what makes us," he spat. "I learned that when you sacked Coruscant, and dozens of other planets, and killed _millions_ of innocents."

One blinked. "Did I? I seem to have forgotten those particular actions of mine." He motioned to one of his fixers. "Get the replacement serum. Until the-"

He was interrupted by the door to their base opening to admit a squadron of Imperial soldiers, carrying a thick briefcase with them. "Apologies, sir," the sergeant said instantly, saluting as one of the privates brought the case forward and laid it on One's desk. "We were delayed."

"The Jedi," Watcher One sniffed.

"How did-"

"Never mind that. You have the serum?"

"Yessir. It's right there."

"Excellent. Return to your posts, men. You've done well." He nodded approvingly, motioned for the fixer to get the more effective serum.

"You didn't pull the trigger," Godera growled, staring at Watcher One again, "but you sure as hell helped the ones that did. You're on their side. What the Empire has done is as much on your conscience as any soldier's."

Watcher One frowned, then turned to the Doctor, walking up to him to look him in the eye. "As everything the Republic has done is on yours?" he asked darkly, voice lowering as a rare moment of emotion bubbled inside his chest. "I remember when my family burned in their transport because they happened to be carrying military goods for the Empire; _I_ recall that your Republic cared not as it blew the ship from the sky."

Godera swallowed, considering, still glaring daggers at Watcher One.

"I was six," he finished, closing his eyes and moving away. "I do not blame you for that. It was a war. People die in war, as is war's business. This is no different."

Godera was silent as Watcher One removed a syringe from the briefcase which the fixer unlocked. He filled the injector with the purple liquid inside, smuggled to Taris from Intelligence headquarters in Dromund Kaas, and flicked the tip to remove the bubbles.

"You will find that I am an honorable man, Doctor Godera," Watcher One said as he approached the man, holding the syringe aloft. "Once I've your secrets we will leave Taris, as I promised. We want nothing with these people."

The fixer rolled up the uniform sleeve on Godera's arm. "Get it over with," the old man murmured, looking away. Not from fear, Watcher One realized, or from pain; the serum would render no agony to him. No... what he was feeling, trying to deny, was _shame_.

_A pity, how few people can truly see every angle. All they can ever notice is right in front of their nose._ "As you wish," Watcher One said, inclining his head, and he plunged the needle into Godera's vein.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** I really like Watcher One, and all of Imperial Intelligence, actually. It's a pity that he wasn't utilized more, but we have the Agent storyline for that.


	22. Condition- Hayram Antilles

**Condition- Hayram Antilles**

"The Sith are here," Hayram said lowly, the darkness he felt as chilling and foreboding as the shadowed trees before them.

Kira unconsciously tensed beside him, hand drifting to her lightsaber hilt. "So that's what that stink was," she muttered. "Why here, though?"

"Godera," he knew.

"Force, we're running out of time," she sighed, putting a hand to her temple.

They'd returned to the reclamation base an hour before to rest and resupply, and hopefully have another crack at Saresh, but Hayram had the impression that although they had made progress things were about to get much worse.

"If they're here, I fear they already have the doctor," Hayram worried. "And we're no closer to finding him. Weeks, spent here. _Weeks_." He clenched a fist in frustration. "That's it. We're moving out, with or without Saresh's help." He turned to the hangar where the ship was docked.

Kira seemed to be of a similar mind. "I'm going to find some camping gear," she told him. "We might be out for a while." She sped off to speak with the settlers.

T7 was waiting for him as he approached the ship, the little droid whistling excitedly. "Hey, little guy," Hayram said. "We're setting out for a while in the wilderness. I need you to make sure that the ship stays secure. Can you do that?"

T7's head tilted slightly, sadly, and Hayram gave him a rueful smile. "Sorry, T7. Taris isn't good for your chassis or legs. Hopefully it'll only be a bit longer and we'll find a planet you can run around on." Force, it was like having a pet kath hound and having to walk it.

True to form, the droid beeped enthusiastically, leading the way up the ship ramp and making its way to the engine room. Hayram entered the cargo hold, rifling through their meager supplies for a backpack. Finding none, he elected to cram as many nutritional cubes, power cells and glow rods as possible into his belt and carry an armful down the ramp.

Kira was already waiting for him, a large brown backpack in her arms along with a small over-the-chest pack which likely contained an expanding tent. He raised a brow as he stuffed the extra supplies in the pack. "That was fast."

"We're owed favors," she shrugged. "And the people wanted to help out."

It was then that Hayram saw the collected gathering behind her; farmers and settlers and soldiers and children and parents, all staring at him in their hangar. They wore faces of determination, of hope, of happiness. _Oh..._

"What else can we do?" the young girl Mira asked, stepping forward from the crowd.

Hayram opened his mouth a few times before something came out. "Oh. Well... I, uh..."

"We've got food and water and a tent," Kira supplied to the few dozen around them. "Thanks for that. I think we'll be fine."  
"This is a long-range two-way communicator," the veteran Tarl grunted from the people, stepping forth and placing it into Hayram's hands. Hayram took a moment to place him, then remembered the old man from the outpost they'd rescued from rakghouls. "It'll transmit your location directly to me."

"You?"  
"And if you need us, we'll come running. I'll kick the soldiers into gear myself if I have to."

"Won't be necessary," a man in Republic armor said firmly, and several others added their assent.

Hayram was struck by the gesture. "I... Thank you," he said after a long moment. "Thank you all. I don't know what to say."

"Just tell me one thing," Tarl stated. "Imperials?" Hayram swallowed, then nodded. "Kick them back to dark space," the veteran grinned, and the crowd hooted in agreement. Kira grinned brightly, the people stared at them with admiration, respect, _awe_...

And Hayram only felt empty inside. Without thinking about it, he retreated into the Force and felt the hole where Mira's father should have been.

**(O)(O)(O)**

Saresh wished to speak with him, and Hayram was tapping his fingers impatiently the moment he stepped into her office. The governor tapped away at some report, trying valiantly to appear collected, but he could feel her conflicted emotions beneath the surface. Regret, anger, distaste, and... shame?

"Thank you for coming, Master Jedi," she said once she had finished the report, closing down the datapad and crossing her fingers atop her desk. Hayram sat in the chair opposite her.

"It's just Jedi," he corrected coolly.

"Jedi, then," she acknowledged with a tilt of her head. "I hear you're leaving us."

"We've spent too much time as it is with too little progress," he stated. "There's still plenty to do, but Godera is in danger. We have to leave."

"I understand." Saresh _did_, he felt, even if he didn't want to admit it. She sighed after a second, stood and rubbed at the back of her neck tiredly. "You've done more for us in a month than I've done in my entire year here."

_That has to sting._ Hayram opted to remain silent, watching the twi'lek as she paced quietly.

"I suppose I want to say thank you," she mused, and Hayram realized that she was almost speaking more to herself than to him. "For everything you've done, in case you don't come back."

"We'll come back," he said certainly.

"You say that now, but you're about to head into Tarisian wilderness, full of rakghouls and who knows what else. And you're chasing Imperials. I heard." She sighed again. "My scouts saw a few patrols like the ones you cut down. It sounds like suicide, trekking out there on foot."

"We're Jedi. We'll be fine."

"You never quit, do you?"

He smiled ruefully. "I've just started."

Saresh smiled back, approached him cautiously, then held out a green hand. Hayram stared at it, then at her, then shook it. "I have a lot to learn about inspiring people," she said, shaking her head. "Watching you has been... valuable."

Hayram felt the odd tingle of discomfort in his gut again at the praise. "I... just try to help where I can, Governor."

But that wasn't it, not truly. The longer he spent on this planet, the longer he spent running around the galaxy was the longer he realized the Compulsion. It had been slumbering during his training, and when he'd arrived on Tython it had finally grew into maturity.

To Hayram Antilles, looking at the Force was like looking at the galaxy. Billions upon billions of stars, lives, people. It was beautiful and full and incredible to behold.

The Compulsion demanded that he protect that galaxy, no matter the cost, because when a star went out he _felt_ it. Somewhere, deep inside himself, some part of him seemed to die. Imperial, settler, rakghoul. All were connected. All were Hayram. Or maybe he was them.

And right now, speaking to Saresh, stars were going out and Hayram wasn't stopping it. The thought made his skin crawl and he gritted his teeth. _Easy..._

He could control it for now. It was easier with Kira, when he could focus his attention and she could pull him away from the galaxy. If he forgot about it, the Compulsion seemed to dissipate for a short time. But Hayram had no idea how long his control would last, while it grated against the armor of his mind like a tidal wave against a shoreline.

"No, you do more than that," Saresh shook her head. "You give people hope. I used... _use_ them like numbers. Tools. As though it's all math." She shrugged. "You inspire the settlers. And I... I was wrong to ignore what you told me."

It was an incredible admission coming from a woman like her, and Hayram tried to ignore the time wasted enough to stand and place a hand on her shoulder. "Governor, I think you're trying your best. Don't be too hard on yourself."

She smiled again, staring into his eyes.

Hayram blinked and backed away; Godera might be dying at that moment. "I have to go."

"Of course," she said, nodding distantly. "I hope you survive, Jedi Antilles, and... May the Force be with you."

He strode from the room as slowly as he could manage.

**(O)(O)(O)**

"Ready to get going, partner?" Kira winked at him, and he smiled back, but underneath he was itching, waiting to get moving. He slung the tent pack over his back, the strap crossing his chest, and he eyed the exit to the base, feeling the communicator from Tarl in his pocket.

"Ready as ever," he muttered. "Come on. We've got a doctor to save."

They set out, the people of Taris watching them leave, and Hayram could only feel the star that was Godera flickering in the void.

**(O)(O)(O)**

Night fell quickly, and it was with reluctance that Hayram and Kira stopped for the day; they'd covered nearly ten miles, and upon finding a clearing surrounded by trees on one side and a large rock outcrop on the other Kira announced, "We're sleeping here. Halt," and held up a hand commandingly.

He rolled his eyes but obliged, and in less than an hour they had set up the small tent and made a campfire which blazed bravely against the oncoming darkness of night. They each consumed a ration cube for dinner.

And Hayram hated it.

_Godera needs our help, and we have to wait because of rakghouls in the night. Unbelievable._ He tapped his feet where he sat on the ground, fingers tapping impatiently, biting his lip.

He hated being still. There was so much to do, and he was _sitting_ there doing _nothing_...

"You're doing it again," Kira said from across the fire, poking a stick into the blaze idly and watching it char and catch flame.

He asked, "What's that?"

"Doing too much."

"I'll sleep." _If I can._

"Yeah, because your body _makes_ you." She snorted. "Come on, tough guy. What's on your mind?"

What _wasn't_ on his mind? "I just hate the waiting," he muttered.

"I know. But you've got to just-"

"I'm NOT going to relax," he snapped suddenly, his voice echoing in the night, and Kira stared, startled. He swallowed and looked down at the ground.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackling of their fire and the occasional chirp of wildlife in the woods.

"What _is_ it with you?" she asked suddenly, eyes piercing him as though she was analyzing a puzzle.

"I can't stop," he blurted, swallowing again, fingers tapping roughly against the dirt. "I can feel it."

"You can feel... what?"

"Godera. The people. Everything."  
Kira was quiet as she thought. "I don't understand."

Of course she didn't. How could she? "It's not... it's not like I can just close it off," he forced out. "It's like... ever since I got to Tython, I changed. I'm different."  
He was thankful that she didn't make a reference to Bengel Moor or the Flesh Raiders, and instead went to the heart of the matter. "What changed?"

"Me," he said simply, because it was the only way he could understand it. "It's like... now I can't disconnect. I'm... attached to people too easily. I can even..." He closed his eyes, the silence of the night a comfort to his addled mind. "I can even feel the _galaxy_, sometimes..."

And he _could_; in moments like this, free of diversion, he could reach out and touch the entire nimbus of sparkling stars around him, in him, through him. They sparkled and shone and faded and burst into being. Beautiful and... overwhelming. He couldn't describe it.  
A weight shifted next to him and he opened his eyes to see her there, sitting beside him, her twig forgotten. "Hayram," she said quietly, "that's... amazing."

"It doesn't _feel_ amazing. I don't even know why it happened." He shook his head. "And now, we came here, and _all_ I can sense is all the pain... and suffering... and all the... _holes_ where people _should_ be..." His voice cracked, resolve undoing, and he cleared his throat, focusing on the flame before them. "I can't control it. I can't stop.

"You and I can both feel life around us. But every day I feel life and death and echoes of everything. It's deafening. Everything is so loud. And it... hurts..."

Kira didn't say anything, and somehow it was alright. She just looked at him, and he at her. "I'm sorry," she whispered sadly, eyes shining. "I wish I could..."

"I know," he sighed. "I'll be fine. In a little while. Once I get used to the quiet."

"I didn't know it was why you..." she trailed off again, feeling guilty for demanding that he stop and rest.

Hayram placed his hand atop hers, left it there as they stared into the fire together. Their presence was enough that words weren't needed at this moment.

He closed his eyes again, breathed in and out, listening to the sounds of the forest and of her, felt _her_ presence next to him, her star. He focused on it alone, blinded himself with her light, and gradually centered himself there, and the Compulsion softened, relaxing its grip on his heart and body. "Thank you," he breathed, the din of life in the universe lessened somewhat.

She looked confused. "For what?"

"For being with me." In the Force, her star sparkled happily.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** Yes, I do in fact have a plan for how Taris is going to turn out. There are a decent number of chapters remaining, and it should be good.

Hayram's condition is something I've thought about for a while, and it'll make more sense as the story progresses. The idea is one that should make sense to those of you who have played a certain other game of the Star Wars franchise. I know it might seem a bit odd right now, but it will be explained. As for the sudden appearance of it, remember that Hayram's POV hasn't been introduced on Taris yet.

Will it be the primary conflict of his character? No. This particular plot I'm setting up will resolve at the end of Act One.

Anyway, thanks again to those of you reading and especially my reviewers! You all make my day. If any of you have chapter titles or ideas, let me know and I'll consider them.


	23. Muja- Hayram Antilles

**Muja- Hayram Antilles**

He felt something was wrong as the first rays of dawn light began to streak over the horizon and the tall, dark trees, only because he'd never been so close to Kira to feel it. Hayram opened his eyes to muttering, hissed whispers that escaped from her lips beside him. They'd slept in the single tent together to preserve body warmth and she had hardly moved at all, save for now, when her mouth worked and her limbs twitched.

Normally he'd dismiss it as a quirk of her sleep cycle, but there was something off about it. It was like a shadow had been drawn over her, a chill he couldn't describe. And her words...

_"...everything dies with me... Mine... All shall be mine... cannot escape, child... will come back to me... belong to me..."_

Hayram stared at her, feeling her own emotions spike but yet... fall... as though suppressed...

"Kira?" he asked quietly. She did not respond. "Kira? Kira?" He moved to rub her shoulder. "Kira?"

She stirred, then her eyes snapped open, a combat knife beneath her pillow flashing into existence between them, the tip angled at Hayram's throat. He held up his hands and backed away, staring into her eyes, wide and feral and as angry as the growl that escaped her throat.

It only took a moment for her to blink and realize where she was, and she started, falling back and dropping the knife, scooting away from him and putting her hands to her head, shaking it vigorously. "I... I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I... I didn't... I didn't mean to-to-"

Hayram had never heard her stutter before; it was disconcerting. "Are you okay?" he asked, but he knew the answer.

"...Yeah," she muttered. "Bad dream, that's all." But when she removed her hands, she looked haunted, eyes sunken, skin paler than usual, the veins of her throat slightly more pronounced. She seemed almost... _corrupted._

He moved closer to her, sitting in front of her. "Kira, I need to know-"

"There's nothing _to_ know," she snapped, grabbing her knife and stuffing it into her boot where she kept it. "I'm fine. It was _just_ a nightmare," she insisted angrily and began to stuff up her bedroll into a bundle.

He watched her for a while, seeing with his own eyes the signs of corruption fading, as though they had been tricks of the light; her skin colored, her eyes became more full.

But he also thought he spotted a slight sheen of yellow in her irises, and that worried Hayram more than anything.

**(O)(O)(O)**

They set out immediately after downing two nutrient cubes and water, heading east and further away from the reclamation zone. When Kira asked why, Hayram had replied that it was just a feeling.

It was, but it was also more. Godera _was_ east of them, and he knew it because all he had to do was look into the galaxy and find the man's star to see that it was still flickering.

"Too bad we don't have speeders," his companion complained as they trudged up a particularly cluttered hill slope, convoluted with branches and small pockets of sludge. Kira's mood hadn't really improved since that morning, an uncharacteristic behavior for her normally upbeat and happy disposition.

Hayram grunted his agreement. _A speeder would have sped things up, that's for sure... unfortunate that the settlers don't have much to spare._

"Any idea how far away we are from the doctor?" she continued.

"I can't say for certain," he answered as he clambered over a large fallen tree. "If we keep this pace up, it shouldn't be long."

"Huh. I hope you're right. Otherwise we're going to be soaked when we get there." She pointed up to the sky and Hayram felt a stab of irritation at the rain clouds that had gathered overhead, painting the sky a dark gray. _Perfect_.

"Wonderful," he announced sarcastically, and increased his pace, Kira moving to keep up behind him.

Of course, it began to rain only minutes later, starting with a light drizzle and soon increasing into a downpour that rivaled those storms of Corellia Hayram had experienced as a boy. Robes quickly becoming waterlogged, he was forced to conceded to the weather and retreat to a small cave embedded in a rock face, drawing on the tolerance he had grown accustomed to in his childhood to quiet the Compulsion and relax as best as he could while he waited for the rain to let up.

Even though it was an inconvenience, the rain could be soothing, thought-provoking. When it wasn't stopping him it was his favorite weather, and he tried to still his mind by sitting at the edge of the cave and stare out into the world, listening to the gentle patter of the water droplets around them and the occasional crash of thunder in the distance.

Kira had been setting up their outer robes against a pair of heating rods they had taken and sat next to him at the entrance, what little robes she wore left clinging to her smooth, creamy skin-

Hayram shook his head. Had he really just thought of her skin as _creamy_?

"Rain guy, huh?" she asked conversationally.

He shrugged, trying to keep his eyes away from the Padawan next to him.

"Fits with your sunny disposition," she chuckled, elbowing him playfully.

"Uh huh. And I suppose your favorite weather is sunny?"

"You'd better believe it. I had enough clouds when I was a kid to last a lifetime."  
There it was again; they had strayed to her childhood every once in a while in their talks but never delved too deeply. It was as though Kira had practiced revealing enough so as not to appear private, but Hayram knew her well enough to recognize her strategy.

When he'd pressed before she had clammed up and evaded (skillfully). This time he decided to try a different tactic; if it got him information on those strange nightmares (or whatever they were), it would be worth it.

"I grew up on Corellia," he volunteered. "Lived on the outskirts of a city named Kor'Vella. Near the mountains. We used to have all kinds of weather there, but the storms..." He smiled at the reminiscence. "Those winds could really put the fear of nature into you. Sometimes my family thought the wind and rain would tear our permacrete house down."

"Corellia, huh?" she repeated. "You don't seem like a frontier kid."

"Well, my name _is_ Antilles. That's probably one of the most common Corellian names in the galaxy. My father was a miner, and my mother worked in the city as a nurse. They made good money, but both were outdoors people when it came down to it. That's probably why they picked to live where they did."

"But you're not?" she guessed.

"I was always more comfortable reading books in the city library," he agreed.

"Nerd," she ordained neutrally, and he smiled. "Corellian mountains... I've heard they're beautiful."

"Oh they were," he replied. "I still appreciated the scenery. In retrospect more than at the time, but I was a kid. Those mountains... in the winter, they'd cap with snow so white it was like... clouds landed on them. And the sky would be so blue and crisp... pure..." he trailed off, images flashing through his mind's eye quickly, bringing about feelings of nostalgia and longing. Playing with other kids, eating dinner at his family's table, hugging his father...

"How old?" she asked suddenly. "How old were you when the Jedi took you?"

It took him a moment to calculate his exact age. "I think I was eight," he tried. "Older than most initiates when they're taken in, but the Jedi needed recruits, and it wasn't like I had anywhere else to go."

Kira turned to him. "What do you mean?"  
He looked out at the rain. "Parents were killed by some virus. A sickness that ran through Kor'Vella for a month or so. It ended up being cured, but..." He shrugged, the faces of his ill parents drifting into his vision. He'd grown to accept their death long ago, but it was still a saddening image. It always would be.

"I'm sorry," she said earnestly.

"It happens," Hayram said automatically, then brushed his own memories aside. "Where did you grow up to like the sun?"  
She tensed again, body moving an inch or so away. "Ah, you don't want to hear my story," she said lightly, failing to mask her trepidation.

"Maybe I do," he challenged, trying to taunt her into playing.

But she stared at him, looking very sad and very alone and all thoughts of prying fled his mind. "Hayram," she said quietly, "just trust me, okay? Maybe... maybe one day. But you don't want to hear what I have to say about my childhood."  
He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. "I don't want to hear about your childhood," he corrected. "I just want to know... about you. Something. Anything personal. Anything real." He gave her a small smile. "All I know is Jedi stuff."

"Why do you want to know about me?"

Why _did_ he want to know? Was it just because she was his partner and he wanted the company? Or had it something to do with the fact that he'd mentally attributed the word _creamy_ to her skin...

"I'm just curious," he settled for.

She didn't _quite_ seem to believe him, but she grinned a little anyway. "Well... go ahead and ask."

Instantly his brain thought up numerous queries he could pursue. _One that isn't pushy, but is personal..._ "Favorite food?" he asked.

Kira scrunched up her face, pondering. "Muja fruit."

Of all the things, he hadn't been expecting something so simple. "Muja fruit?" he repeated dumbly.

She giggled. "Don't look like that!" she cried. "It's not stupid."

"It's a little odd," he grinned as he chuckled. "Why muja fruit?"

She shrugged again, becoming a little more withdrawn. "It was something special we got as kids," she said quietly, voice full of... longing.

Hayram nodded and fell quiet, looking out at the rain again. In the privacy of his mind, he added something to his list of things to do. _First thing's first: get Doctor Godera. Immediately after: find Muja Fruit._

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** So I'm a sucker for good old-fashioned fluff chapters. Sue me. And I like these characters, so there we go.

I'd like to point out that these chapters are from Hayram's POV mainly to provide characterization. We'll be switching to others soon enough.

Anyhow, let me know what you guys think of all this and how I'm doing with my OC and all. Thanks to those of you who reviewed! It means a lot.


	24. In Battle- Hayram and Kira

**In Battle- Hayram Antilles and Kira Carsen**

"Jedi," the clipped, accented voice called out from the trees, and Kira's lightsaber was immediately in her hand and ignited, ready to deflect the incoming blaster bolt. However, no scarlet energy streamed toward her or Hayram.

Instead, the Imperial in a tidy gray uniform stood passively before them, hands behind his back, staring at them neutrally. His hair was swept back professionally and sported a thin mustache. _Heh. He must like the bad guy cliches..._ Kira reached out to feel his presence and noted the lack of fear. _Brave man... or one who thinks he has us where he wants us._

She eyed Hayram, who took the initiative in speaking. "Imperial," he said, the control in his voice tight and waning fast. _Easy, there_... "What do you want?"

"You are the pair of interlopers attempting to find Doctor Godera, are you not?"

Hayram's blade ignited in his fist. "Where is he?"

"Don't be hasty, now," the Imperial said, holding up his hands as though speaking to a child. "I am Watcher One, Imperial Intelligence. And I am the one who took your doctor."

"I don't suppose you're here to surrender and hand him over?"

Watcher One's mouth twitched. "I am afraid not. Rather, we need a bit more time with him to extract the information we need, and you have made progress too quickly for us to counter."

Kira frowned, sensing something wrong with the situation, though not through the Force. "Hayram, be careful," she whispered lowly.

"Tell me where he is," Hayram ordered clearly, "before I make you."  
She blinked at the threat. _Wow. He's really not in a playing mood today..._

"You see, I _can_ do that," Watcher One agreed. "In a few hours. Fortunately, I have something else to distract you while we finish our business with Godera."  
"Don't play games with me, Imperial," Hayram warned, pointing his emerald blade at the man.

"This," Watcher One promised, "is no game." He reached behind his back and Kira readied herself, but instead of a blaster or grenade he produced a thin datapad, which he tossed towards them. Hayram plucked it from the air with his free hand. "On that datapd is a set of coordinates," One stated. "It is the location of a small settlement not far from here. A band of settlers made a base camp within a small mountain, hoping to establish a presence outside of Governor Saresh's reclamation zone."

"Why?"

"We do not know, nor care," One replied. "However, as the camp was set up rather close to our facility, I recently ordered a strike against the people there. They were far enough away from Saresh and her people that any interdiction on our part would go unnoticed, as we are clearly deep in the wildernss." He gestured around them at the tangled trees and shrubs.

Kira suddenly had a very good idea of what the taint she had felt in the Force was. _Sith..._ "You sent a Sith after them," she breathed.

"It seemed an effective solution at the time," Watcher One acknowledged crisply. "However, the information within Godera's mind is more valuable than the settlers, and we will be leaving shortly regardless. Therefor you may rescue them, and leave us time to complete our work."

Hayram tensed, and the world fell quiet. "We 'may'?" he asked slowly, and Kira felt a sense of growing trepidation.

Watcher One frowned. "We are the ones in control here, Jedi. Do not fool yourself. The Sith is already approaching the settlers. If you pursue me, they _will_ die. I offer you a chance to save them. You will still get your doctor. In fact, you lose nothing."

"Don't presume to order us," Hayram barked.

"My, not very Jedi-like," Watcher One mused. "Interesting. Your profile suggested as much, but it is another thing to see it first-hand."  
Suddenly the agent was whisked off his feet and into the air, hands reflexively clenching his throat as invisible pressure seized it. Hayram stood still, hand outstretched and squeezing.

Kira started into action, grabbing his hand and wrenching it aside; his concentration broke and the Watcher fell to the ground, gasping. "What are you _doing_?" she shouted.

"He is _delaying_ us!" he snarled. "Playing games with peoples' _lives_!"

"Hayram, stop!" she insisted. "You... you don't want to go that far-"

"I'm in control."

"You are _right now_. The dark side _takes _it from you-"

"How would _you_ know?!"

Kira opened her mouth, the unspoken accusation like a stinging wound in her gut. Her throat clenched as if _it_ had been choked and she narrowed her eyes, anger rising to cover her fear and guilt. "_Look_ at yourself," she _commanded_, and his eyes looked down at his body.

Stance ready for combat, lightsaber held back, prepared to strike, fist clenched, teeth gritted, eyes wide and furious.The Jedi paused, swallowed, and took a step back. "Not a Jedi at all," Watcher One commented as he got to his feet. "Are you quite done?"

Kira took over, standing in front of Hayram. He needed time to recover, and if he spoke to Watcher One again he might snap. Godera be damned, that couldn't happen. Otherwise they wouldn't save him at all. "Watcher One, get out of here. We're going to save those settlers and then we're coming for you."

Watcher One inclined his head. "You are certainly welcome to try," he allowed, and strode away into the forest, features fading away like a mirage.

She turned to Hayram, feeling the passion within him roiling like a torrential storm. "Hayram, get a grip," she said, grasping his arms.

"I... I didn't-... He... I... Godera... No..." He was shaking his head, closing his eyes, and suddenly Kira understood when he said, "_She's there. The settlers... Oh, Force..._" He was feeling them, their pain, their fear.

"Hayram, we can still save them," she urged. "We have to go."

"I... I don't know... I almost..."  
"Don't focus on it for now," she told him firmly, gripping his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Don't give it time. Just keep going. Do you hear me?"

His eyes glistened, regret sweeping through the Force. "I'm so sorry..."

The stab of guilt and anger spiked again and she glowered at him. "Doesn't matter now," she muttered, snatching the datapad from his grasp, peering at the coordinates. "Let's move." And she dropped her backpack to the ground, breaking into a run through the forest.

Anything to get away from him and his eyes and his _sorrow_.

**(O)(O)(O)**

The Sith was inside, and two had already died.

When Kira and Hayram burst into the settlement through a large tunnel burrowed into the side of the mountain, they skidded to a stop, looking up at the monster of brown and black before them, and the Force chilled suddenly like a frozen breeze from the void.

_Force... A terentatek..._

The beast turned, snout flexing as it sniffed the air deeply, and a shift of its stance as it turned revealed another terentatek behind it, flanking a pureblood Sith woman in angular black garb and wielding a violet lightsaber, the purple light reflecting off her red skin.

The settlers inside the concourse of the settlement were clustered together, tears streaming down their faces, fear perpetuating their minds and hearts. Hayram flinched, taking a step back, and Kira reached out to grip his arm, steadying him.

"Never fought one of these before," she murmured, pushing aside her fear as best as she could.

"Me neither," Hayram agreed after a moment.

He'd hurt her, and he was dangerous. Despite that, Kira turned to face him and smiled. "I call the one on the right."

The quip had the intended effect, and he blinked, staring at the one on the left. "Then I've got the other... The Sith?"

"We'll split her. Come on, tough guy. You ready for this?"  
He nodded, activated his lightsaber, and together they leapt into the fray.

**(O)(O)(O)**

This is Hayram and Kira, in battle.

Time is always running out for them. Right now, it's running out because of Godera and the settlers. If they don't stop this Sith and her monsters soon, innocents will die and the mission will fail, and the repercussions will echo across the lake of the galaxy like a giant stone falling into water.

But time is always running out for them. Next time, it will be something else, some other place, some other enemy. Some other clock, running concurrently with the clock of their lives, and _them_. _They_ are an entity too, and that clock has been running since the day they met. Their time is limited, and draining. It always has been, even if they don't realize it.

But in the midst of this fight, when lightsabers whirl and claws shred and shouts of pain and effort rebound around a makeshift arena, Hayram and Kira have all the time in the world.

It doesn't matter that they're both wounded, in different ways. It doesn't matter that they're tired and confused and angry. They're fighting _together_, and that's enough.

Together, they're invincible. Untouchable. They've been together for mere weeks and already they know each other the way masters know students, the way partners know partners, the way lovers know lovers.

A terentatek claw swings for Hayram's stomach, seeking to tear hunks of flesh from his body and he dives away; in the same instant Kira's violet blade is there, sinking into the beast's hand and cutting away a great gash that leaves the hand in two pieces, dangling from a wrist.

The other reaches for Kira, but Hayram has rolled behind her and swept his saber in a wide arc at the claw that is aimed for her back, slicing away a finger and leaving the beast to recoil in pain. Back to back, the Jedi prepare for the next step in their dance.

That's what it is, really; not a fight for their lives or the lives of others. Those kinds of sequences are chaotic, unpredictable, uncertain. When Hayram and Kira fight against darkness, it is too exact and precise and _successful_ to be anything but a dance.

The Sith pureblood lets out a cry of rage at her pets' agony and charges a bolt of blue lightning that should have speared through Kira's heart, but Hayram diverts the lightning away with his blade and lets Kira push out with her own blast of telekinetic energy, slamming the Sith into a wall hard enough to dent metal. The first terentatek attacks again, new claw sweeping out and catching Kira in her midsection, knocking her off balance. At the same moment the Sith recovers, her lightsaber thrown hard enough to knock Hayram's from his grasp.

This _should_ be the end, and it would be if it were any other two Jedi. For Hayram and Kira, it's a slight misstep, and corrected as easily as shifting one's weight. They can't lose; they have a Doctor to save, and it is as simple as that.

Hayram's lightsaber falls through the air and Kira reaches out on the ground, catching it with the Force and igniting it, mentally flinging it towards the maw that opens to engulf her prone form. The saber shoots straight through flesh, punching out the terentatek's throat and spinning gracefully through the air.

Hayram already knows what to do, because it's _Kira_, and though he can't explain it he knows her better than anyone, and jumps high into the air, before the impromptu spectators of their dance. The first terentatek begins to fall and Kira rolls, double lightsaber horizontal in her hands as it cleaves through the beast's throat; it thuds to the deck loudly and she crouches behind it as the Sith roars again and sends another attack of lightning toward her. The bolts char the monster's flesh instead of hers and she throws her lightsaber at Hayram, who lands perfectly atop the muscled shoulders of the second terentatek...

His lightsaber and hers land in his hands solidly and as the giant meaty fists reach up to claim him he plunges both blades into the throat of the monster; it stiffens, gasping thickly, and Hayram lets out a yell of victory, pulling the sabers out on opposite sides.

When the terentatek falls, its head is severed from its body, and Hayram lands lightly, unscathed. Kira stands, catches her saber as Hayram tosses it to her, and together they approach the Sith, whose eyes widen as she backs away, blade held in front of her as though it might shield her.

But she is dead, and she knows it, and the settlers know it, and the Jedi know it, and so she summons her rage, every fiber of energy that amounts to _who_ she is, and charges, willing her saber to _kill_ those who took away her prized pets...

Kira blocks a blow to her thigh, Hayram one to his arm...

The Sith's saber is batted aside from a spinning strike from Hayram, who remains turned, blade twirling in his grasp as Kira aims, lunges...

Both lightsabers pierce the Sith's chest, Kira's lunge and Hayram's backstab in perfect synchrony, and the Sith's eyes dim as she dies.

Her body falls too, the final note to the song accompanying their routine, and then it is over.

The dance is finished and Hayram and Kira look at one another, and their clock restarts, the seconds ticking down, down, down...

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: **I'm back! Sorry for the delay- (dodges thrown fruit)

Okay, maybe I deserved that. Truth be told, I've been trying to work on some original fiction and that's been taking up creative juices. That said, I still love this fic and am going to continue. Now that I've got some traction once again, expect regular updates to return. Once again, I apologize for the unexpected hiatus.

This chapter's title is a bit odd, but it's something you'll see from time to time. For one, it's two words. That will reappear only for chapters such as this one, when I break style and go into Matthew Stover mode. Mr. Stover, some of you may know, is the one who introduced the kind of style at the end of this chapter. Or at least I first read it from him, so there you go. Credit where credit is due, and all that. Let me know what you think of that little experiment. For another, it references two people as the POV. It's not entirely true, but I felt to list it as Kira's chapter is misleading, since the true focus of the chapter isn't on some event or feeling like the other vignettes and more on the last section.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed over the past couple of weeks! It's been a pleasure to read all of your comments. Let me know what you think of this chapter, and where it's going.

I figure we have probably three or four more chapters on Taris, then an interlude on Coruscant, then off to Nar Shaddaa. I've got big things planned. Until next time...


	25. Unprepared- Watcher One

**Unprepared- Watcher One**

Part of being an Intelligence officer was having the foresight to have many contingencies in place. Of course, one couldn't possible prepare for everything, but Watcher One liked to think that he was fairly close to having all potential bases covered, so to speak.

So when the doors to their hideout began to burn as lightsabers cut their way through the thick metal, he moved away from the operating bed on which Doctor Godera lay and moved to the computer console at this desk, calmly typing in commands whilst simultaneously checking his blaster and dart launcher attached to his wrist. He still hoped to have a long career after this, so it was best to make sure he had every advantage.

Still, the Jedi had certainly cut through his distraction much more quickly than he had anticipated. If he'd been lucky, they'd have died, but Watcher One had long ago learned not to rely on luck.

The doors burst open and a few of his men opened fire on the figures that stepped through; it was a foolish move, as their bolts were batted back into their chests and they collapsed quickly, lives snuffed out in an instant. Watcher One, Fixer Eight and a few of the other officers gathered near the desk, aiming their weapons but not firing like intelligent operatives.

The Jedi stepped into the facility, weapons lit in their hands, and Watcher One finished entering his command before looking up. "Ah, Jedi, you've arrived faster than I-"

And he stopped, blinked, looked again.

The Jedi were _ragged_. Their robes were torn, small scrapes marking their arms and legs and chests, and their faces were drawn into grim masks of determination. The female, Carsen, appeared in control, breathing slowly and calmly to recover from what had clearly been a very fast run.

But the male... the one who had choked Watcher One, Antilles... He looked more like a _demon_ than a Jedi. Eyes narrowed dangerously, burning holes into One's, every centimeter in his body giving off the appearance of absolute... _wrath._

Only one other had ever looked at Watcher One like that, a Pureblood whom the Watcher had hoped to forget. He swallowed his fear, steadied himself as Antilles spoke. "Watcher One. Release the doctor and surrender." Something in the words made the Watcher's spine tingle. It wasn't a request, or even a threat.

It was a command with a promise of utter annihilation should he refuse.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Watcher One said regretfully. "The doctor has information my superiors desire. If you take him, many of my compatriots will die. I'm sure you can see why I simply can't allow that to happen."

"We played your game, and killed the Sith and her terentateks," Carsen spat. "Nice trick, but it won't work again."

"No, I don't suppose it would," Watcher One agreed. "That's why I have another." He hit a key on his console.

A sudden crackling burst filled his ears, but it was far better than the sound he imagined the Jedi were receiving; they _screamed_, lightsabers falling from their fingers as the high-frequency noise assaulted their ear drums, perfectly synchronized to inflict maximum pain, then turned to an extreme volume.

Only the small devices in Watcher One and the other Imperials' ears stopped them from having the same reaction.

The Jedi fell to their knees, droplets of blood starting to leak from between their fingers, and as their faces contorted violently in agony Watcher One hit the key again, and the auditory attack ceased. "I doubt you can hear me," he drawled crisply, "but I did warn you."

"Ack... what... did you-" Carsen tried, falling to her elbows as she bowed her head in pain.

"Your eardrums have burst," Watcher One said calmly, moving around his desk and striding up to the docile Jedi; they would not have the energy to attack him. He'd seen better Knights fall to that particular assault. "Your mind is reeling from the damage, and your nervous tissue is also suffering from damage due to the magnitude of the audio blast. It will pass in time, but that is not the worst we will do to you." He flicked his fingers forward.

A trio of soldiers rushed forward, bindings their hands that they clasped to each Jedi's wrists, firmly pinning their arms behind their backs. They wrenched the Jedi to their feet, ignoring their groans of discomfort.

"I would kill you myself," Watcher One said honestly. "Though orders are orders. Angral will certainly torture you when you are taken to him. I regret having to follow through with that command. It lacks a certain... dignity."

"Dignity?" Antilles growled, teeth bared. "Dignity like... sending... a murderer... to kill... settlers?"  
"I never said I liked that action," One replied easily. "But it was necessary. As is this." He regarded the soldiers. "Inject them with the sleeping agent."

One of the armored men produced a syringe, bared Carsen's neck, moved the needle to her skin.

And then stopped.

Watcher One stared at him. "Well?"  
The man grunted, arm clearly flexing. "I... _can't_," he answered with difficulty, and suddenly the needle twisted and broke off, hovered in the air, and buried itself in the ground.

"Stun them," Watcher One said instantly. "Stun them now." If they had the chance to use the Force...

The soldiers aimed their weapons, fired; Carsen collapsed as the blue bolts struck her back, but Antilles took the shots, growling and glaring at Watcher One with such fire it almost burned.

The Imperial operative stared back coldly but respectfully. "Again."  
Another flurry of stun bolts, and finally Antilles eyes closed, head lolling forward as his body toppled to the deck.

Watcher One let out a small sigh of relief. "Interesting. I'll have to mention that." He nodded to the men. "Inject them with sleeping agents, keep a watch on them. They won't be out for more than a few seconds. In one hour we move." He strode to his console.

An orange and gray astromech bumped into his leg, beeping loudly to get his attention. One raised a brow. "When did we get this droid?"

Fixer Eight looked and explained. "About a day ago. It's helping us compile the information we retrieved from Godera. Cross referencing and such."

"And it was cleared?"

"It shows up perfectly in our systems," Eight shrugged. "Our mole, Ruk, brought him in. It's legitimate. ID tags clear."

Watcher One rubbed at his brow tiredly. "Very well. What is it?"

The droid beeped again. _T7=Contains message from Darth Angral_.

_Something isn't right. _"You have a message from the dark lord?" he asked suspiciously. "Why hasn't it been received by our holonet transceiver?"

_Information=too sensitive to be sent over holonet._

"... Despite our network being the most secure in the galaxy."

_T7=given orders. T7=just doing job._

"Fixer..." Watcher One looked at his technician again. "Did the Jedi have any accomplices?"

"No sir," the Fixer replied cautiously. "The only information we received from our mole and the cameras we hacked was that these Jedi operated alone. We never saw any droid."

Watcher One looked at the Jedi, who were being dragged over to the wall by the soldiers. "What about their ship? Did we gain access to their ship cameras?"  
"No, sir. They were on a separate network. There was no way to connect."  
Watcher One had worked in Intelligence for a very long time, and in that time he'd learned that his instinct was usually correct. He stared down the little droid again, watched its single eye glow at him impassively, and _knew_ that it was somehow working against him.

"Play the message," he said slowly. _Best to see what this... action is before responding..._

_Not audio. Message=physical data card._

The sense unease within One grew. "I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered. "Very well. Give it to me." He held out a hand and from within the droid's casing came a small datacard, handed over via a small robotic claw.

Watcher One strode over to his desk and inserted the card into his console via the port at the side, waited for only a moment as it interfaced with the computer's systems. The screen flashed once, twice, and then faded entirely.

"What is this?" he asked calmly, retaining his control despite the almost-certain knowledge that he would not like the answer.

Then he spotted the droid's headlight flickering very rapidly: a data transfer.

"Fixer Eight!" Watcher One cried. "Blast that thing!"

As the man drew his pistol, the T7 unit beeped loudly and suddenly every light in the small compound shut off, drenching the base in utter blackness.

Watcher One dove for his desk, knowing the strategy; human eyes, even ones in helmets like the soldiers', needed a second or two to adjust, and ones without electronic aid would be effectively blind. The droid had no such limitations.

The door to the base slammed shut with a deafening clang, and then blaster shots, cries of pain as the Imperial soldiers were shot, then more silence.

Watcher One snatched his datapad from his desk by luck and activated it; the droid hadn't yet managed to shut it down. He accessed the lighting controls and entered his personal command key, overriding outward access and entering the core code of the system. Watcher One's eyes rapidly took in the information, found the bug the T7 unit had entered into his base, and with a lightning-fast series of keystrokes had eliminated it. The virus had been simple but powerful; once found it was easy to crush it.

And he would not be defeated by an astromech droid. The thought almost amused him as the lights returned to the compound, even though it had almost occurred.

Watcher One recovered his blaster and stood, finding Fixer Eight alive along with a few of the scientists. Godera was still on his table. The guards with blaster rifles were dead, and one of them held a sleeping agent injector, still filled with the liquid.

The T7 unit was at it's masters' sides, and it whirled on Watcher One, a small blaster extending from its dome. It fired a cluster of shots which the Watcher dodged in a quick roll before firing a small dart from his concealed gauntlet; the bolt struck the droid in the center of its chassis and instantly emitted a quick electromagnetic pulse; the little machine squealed in an imitation of agony as it's light flashed violently, before it slumped, disabled.

Watcher One sighed. "My, what a fantastic disaster that almost was."

"Sir, I had no idea-"

"That's alright, Eight," the Watcher said easily, waving aside the explanation. "I did not expect the droid to be so... independent. The Jedi didn't plan this. It came on its own accord." He strode over and tapped the droid with his foot. "Intriguing. I wonder how long it's been without a memory wipe."  
He turned back to the Fixer and scientists. "We are out of time. Pack your things and the computer core; I'll kill the Jedi."

Eight's eyes widened. "But Darth Angral said-"

"I am aware of what he ordered." _Given the circumstances, returning with Godera's information is better than returning with nothing..._ "But it is too risky to remain here and to take them with us. Therefore, they must be dealt with. Follow my orders." He eyed his subordinate seriously.

Fixer Eight rushed for the computer as the scientists and technicians gathered their bags of supplies and databanks. Watcher One turned back to his captives, regarding them coolly. "It was a interesting match," he complimented to their unconscious bodies. "A pity the game could not go on longer." He raised his blaster at Antilles' head.

"Sir!" Fixer Eight called, and Watcher One sighed again.

_That boy needs to learn to be calm..._ "What is it?"  
"The computer core! It's been wiped!"  
Watcher One froze. _The droid... All the secrets from Godera... Every bit of knowledge..._

He knew what it meant. They would escape, only to face failure and execution from Darth Angral. Or they could stay, risking detection and retaliation and more failure. Another execution. In fact, Watcher One saw no path in which they were not executed. There was simply no more maneuvering room, no more choices. It was a matter of mathematics.

"Sir..." Eight looked scared. Terrified, even.

"Do not panic," Watcher One advised. It was best to go about this carefully.

"Sir... the men did not inject the Jedi with the sleeping agent..."  
A stirring from behind Watcher One sounded like death.

Antilles was standing, eyes narrowed, body slumped but tense with power. The Watcher did not bother to raise his blaster pistol.

Behind him, his console suddenly bent inward, crushed by telekinetic force. The sound emitter fizzled and cracked into oblivion along with it.

_I see_, he realized with a distant sort of acceptance. _It appears that this truly will be my end._ He almost chuckled at the droid. _I always did underestimate some more than others..._

"Well, then," Watcher One said, placing his hands behind his back in a dignified manner. "It seems circumstance has favored you, Jedi Antilles."

"... Looks like it." Watcher One's blaster pistol levitated from his belt and was promptly tossed into a corner. Antilles winced, but took a step forward nonetheless.

"Do not come closer," the Watcher warned. "I leave what happens next to you. The Doctor is yours."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Watcher One felt his head collide with the wall, because he'd suddenly been thrown into it with enough force to fracture his shoulders. He cried out involuntarily, felt his arms and legs pinned to leave him hanging helplessly.

Antilles was staring at him with that _look_ again, the one which reminded him of the Sith long ago. "You killed innocent people," he accused. "And now you expect to walk away?"

"To the... contrary," Watcher One managed, as he underlings looked on in awe and terror, clustered in the corner. "I merely wait to see in what manner I cease to exist."

"You aren't making it out of here," Antilles promised, voice a low growl. "Justice has to be served. You _will not_ just walk away from what you've done."  
Carsen was still unconscious and Watcher One remembered that it had been her that had stopped Antilles' assault before. With her out of the way...

"I know," the Watcher whispered.

"Why aren't you fighting back?"

And the Watcher's keen mind glimpsed a truth, and he smirked. "My, my, Jedi. Can't stomach the idea of murder?"

Antilles' fingers twitched.

"You _need_ me to attack you, don't you?"

"You're just... giving up?" the Jedi responded, avoiding the question but answering it all the same.

"It makes no difference." Watcher One answered truthfully. It was almost blissful, to be open like this at the End. "I'd rather die at the hand of a Jedi than tortured to destruction by Angral. That would be... uncivilized."

Suddenly Antilles took a step back and lowered his arm and Watcher One collapsed to the ground, mind whirling. "Angral will kill you?" the Jedi whispered.

Watcher One coughed as his lungs drank in air. "We... failed him. The droid wiped our computers. We have nothing on Godera. If we return, Angral will find us and make us pay. It is the way of things in the Empire. As I said, dying at your hand is... honorable, in comparison."

"Honorable?"

"Do you know something, Jedi?" Watcher One smiled grimly. "I joined the military as a patriot, wanting to do good for my people. Somewhere along the way I ended up doing the dirty jobs no one else would, and in death no one will know my name."

Antilles no longer looked murderous, but confused. "I... I could bring you in," he said after a moment, looking like it took him effort to say the words.

Watcher One shook his head. "Do not attempt it. I will not allow myself to be picked for information." The implication was clear, and he fingered the small release on the inside of his gauntlet that would inject him with enough poison to end his life in seconds.

He and the Jedi stared at each other. _Impasse._ Antilles could not let him leave, yet he could not take him in. The only option was to kill Watcher One, but doing so would be murder. _A fascinating conundrum_, the Watcher thought, detached from his own demise.

After a very long while, Antilles' face wrestled itself into an expression resembling regret and he said softly, "The bed. The one Godera is on. I assume is hovers for movement?"

Watcher One looked at it, mounted on the wall. "It does."

"Then order one of your men to bring it down, and activate it."

The Watcher narrowed his eyes, but he decided to play along. "... Fixer Eight?"  
"Sir," the boy said, clearly confused. Deeper, though, something like hope sounded from his voice.

Hope that he would not die. Hope that he would live to breathe for another hour, another week, another life.

Watcher One said, "Do as the Jedi commands. Quickly."

The young man rushed to the bed, brushing past the Jedi without so much as a hint of aggression. Antilles stared at Watcher One, for his part. "What are you playing at?" the Watcher inquired.

"I'm not playing at anything," the Jedi answered.

_Ah. Using me to ensure his own success. It seems he reconciled his moral confusion, then._ He let out a breath of preparation. _What a strange one of his Order._ "Very well. If you would be so kind as to make it instant, I would be grateful."

"I'm not going to kill you," Antilles said, and the bed fell to the ground with an echoing _boom_, before Eight activated the thrusters and the bed lifted off the ground to hover tranquilly a few feet high. "Reactivate my T7 unit."

As the Fixer did so, Watcher One frowned. "I am not coming with you, Jedi."

"I know."

"Then-"  
The droid whined dangerously as it came back online, raising a blaster at the Fixer. Antilles raised a hand placatingly. "T7. Hold off. Just keep your eye on them. We're leaving." With that, the Jedi turned away and limped to his companion, where he knelt and gathered her into his arms tenderly and made for the entrance. The droid rolled up to the socket nearby and interfaced, and the portal outside the compound rushed open.

Watcher One remained on his knees, staring at Antilles. "Jedi Antilles..."  
"Find someplace else, Watcher," Antilles called. "And hope we don't meet again." His footsteps disappeared after a few seconds as he marched into the wilderness.

And Watcher One was left with his subordinates in the silence of their base, empty of anything but failure.

He stared at the ground, finding the path before him... hazier than usual.

"Watcher?" Fixer Eight asked tentatively. "What do we do now?"

And for once in his life, Watcher One did not have an answer, nor a way to find one. "I do not know, Fixer. I do not know."

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** Agh. I'm terribly sorry about how long it took for me to return to this. Real life is busy, and my original work takes a lot of creative energy. I'm glad I returned, but I will not promise a date from now on. I will continue this fic until completion, but I don't want to make promises about dates and times. That doesn't mean updates won't be regular, mind you; I just hate being late, even for my own deadlines.

On the plus side, I have two chapters for you guys rather than just one. You may want to go back and reread the last three or so, to get the mood right and bring yourself back up to speed.

Anyhow. Thank you all so much for the continued support. It really means a lot, and I'm glad you all are enjoying this story. Extra thanks to those of you who reviewed; I try to reply to all of you, and I appreciate the effort to let me know what you think.

We have a couple more chapters on Taris, then off to the next planet...


	26. Juicy- Kira Carsen

**Juicy- Kira Carsen**

Kira awoke to soft sheets and warmth.

_Well that can't be right. Ugh..._ She opened her eyes, looked around to find herself in the middle of a hospital room, lying in a bed that supported her back and neck. T7 the droid was sitting next to her, head bobbed downward in a simulation of sleeping. Kira was wearing a hospital gown, and reached up to fix a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes when she felt the patches of white cloth that covered her ears.

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Ugh... testing?" she tried, relieved when sound filtered into her eardrums. It was like it came from far away, echoing oddly in her skull. "Teeseven?"

The little droid beeped as it awoke from its resting state. "Twoo?" it asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she assured it. "If that's what you asked. Kind of got my ears shot out by that Imperial."

_Doctors=say Kira will heal._

"Well that's good." She stretched her arms, yawning tiredly. "Wonder how much kolto they stuffed inside. Maybe Hayram knows." She glanced around and saw the bed beside hers was empty, and she frowned. "Alright, buddy. Where'd he go?"  
T7 looked around her bed, eye light flickering uncertainly. _T7=does not know Hayram Antilles' location._

Kira sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Well, he's not asleep, and that's bad." She checked herself to make sure that she wasn't stuck with any IVs (she wasn't) and hopped off the bed, taking a moment to regain her balance before proceeding.

_Doctors=ordered T7 to make Kira stay!_ The droid chirped nervously.

Kira glared at him. "Who are you, my warden?" She strode up to the door of her room and let it slide open, then almost ran into Hayram's gown-adorned chest. "Oof."  
Hayram looked down at her, raising a brow. "Teeseven," he sighed.

The droid whined pitifully and she came to its rescue. "I escaped, not his fault," she smirked. "In fact, I was wondering where you'd gone."

"Juice," he answered shortly, hefting a small pouch as he brushed past her and clambered onto his bed. He had patches covering his ears too, but at least they could hear each other well enough to converse.

Kira watched him for a moment, confused. "Uh... so, you going to tell me what happened?"

_T7=saved Jedi!_

She rounded on the astromech in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?!" she demanded. "T7 that's amazing!"

The droid backed away into a corner, as if it was bashful.

"You little miracle worker, you," she smiled, kneeling by the droid and tapping its dome affectionately.

_T7=followed signal from communicator given to Jedi by Tarl_, it explained. _T7=sustained damage to rotors and wheels. T7=made it to Sith base._

"Guess that comm was a good idea after all," she mused, glancing back at Hayram, who was sucking down his juice pouch and staring up at the ceiling distantly. It would have been amusing, had she not reached into the Force and felt his sadness.

_Sadness at what? Force..._

_T7=hacked Imperial computers, disabled systems._ Its light dimmed slightly. _T7=captured..._

"Huh? How did we escape?"

"I woke up before you did," Hayram finally answered, voice a monotone. He didn't look at her, though she stared at him inquiringly. "Watcher One gave us the Doctor, since T7 had wiped all the information they'd obtained and... gave up."

He sucked another bit of juice. "_Gave up_," he whispered dreamily, entranced, obviously pondering all the implications and how this could apply to his internal philosophy.

Kira snorted, then chuckled, and erupted into a full blown laugh.

Hayram narrowed his eyes at her, finally, and she laughed again, louder, clutching at her sides and falling back to rest against T7, eyes clenched shut to hold back the few tears leaking from her. "I... you..." she tried, then laughed again.

"Why are you laughing?" he wanted to know.

"Because... you... are... so..." she giggled again, then fell against T7 heavier; the droid looked at her with its eye curiously, then back up at Hayram, as though it was giving the droid equivalent of a shrug.

Hayram turned back to his juice and looked at the ceiling again stubbornly. "Doctor says we can leave once the kolto injections are finished healing," he stated evenly.

Kira felt her chuckles slowly subsiding, pointed at the pouch in his hand. "I... I'm sorry," she managed weakly. "You just... with the juice... and a little dribbled down your chin..."  
He huffed in irritation. "Trying to keep you informed, here... I did save you again," he added cheekily, keeping his voice in check remarkably well.

The challenged piqued Kira's attitude. "Three to one. I'll catch up. Just you wait," she sniped, and sighed as the laughter left her. "For the record, making deep statements shouldn't be done while you're wearing a gown and sipping juice."

"Thanks for the warning," he said dryly.

"So we got Godera."

"We did."

"And the Watcher surrendered?"

"He did. I had to let him go."

Of all the things Kira had expected, that wasn't one. "You what?"

Hayram shrugged. "I had to," he repeated, fingers tapping quickly in annoyance. "It was either that or let him be captured and tortured by the Empire."

"Why not bring him in?"

"He'd kill himself," Hayram said simply. "I felt it."  
The light atmosphere was evaporating, and she went with it. "You wanted to kill him," she stated.

He closed his eyes, nodded. "I almost did."

She saw, then, the conflict that was rubbing at him. She stood from her position on the floor and walked to his bed, placing a hand on his arm. "But you didn't."  
"No. Guess not. Maybe Satele was right after all."  
She raised a brow but he didn't elaborate, so she let it drop. "Well, I guess it was a win, then," she shrugged. "Only almost killed us."

"Yeah," he sighed again. "Only almost killed us."  
Silence fell between them and Kira returned to her own bed, drawing her knees to her chest. By happenstance, her eyes spotted the round, purple fruit on the desk next to her bed.

Something in her chest fluttered heavily. _No way..._ Her fingers reached out and gripped the fruit, bringing it to her nose to smell it. The sweet, strong fragrance wafted up into her nostrils and made her mouth water.

"Hayram?" she squeaked, staring at him. "...Muja?"

"Sorry about what I said... in the forest," he muttered.

"You... remembered?" she whispered, disbelieving.

For his part, the Jedi Knight regarded her neutrally and took a deliberate draw from the juice pack.

He was okay, she realized as the Force brightened. _Apology accepted, tough guy._

She beamed widely, affection welling within her heart as she returned to the fruit and snatched the small knife he had placed there for her, peeling away the outer layer of the sphere, then quartering the juicy innards into slices. Six prepared, she popped one into her mouth and chewed.

_Oh, Fooooorce..._

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N:** Not every battle is a traumatic, soul-wrecking event for Hayram. I made this one specifically to point out that fact. I like Hayram, but I wanted to be clear that he isn't some overly-emo Jedi or whatever. He's serious and thinks far too much, but he makes mistakes and deals with them. I could've made this chapter much more serious and dark, about Hayram pondering his angry tendencies, but I think that's been rehashed enough as it is. He's growing and moving on, and Kira... well, I just think Kira is amusing to write, especially since she doesn't take our hero's crap and see's how foolish he is sometimes.

The title is intended to make people read the last chapter, then see the title of this one and go, "What the (censored)... I think it sets up the mood pretty well. XD

Anyhow, the next chapter will introduce Godera and send our trio off on their next assignment: Nar Shaddaa. I've got plenty planned for _that_ planet...


	27. Perspective- Hayram Antilles

**Perspective- Hayram Antilles**

"Master Orgus?"  
The blue-tinted image coalesced and finally formed a cohesive image, that of Orgus Din in Jedi robes. His face peered down at Hayram from the holoprojector in the center of the ship. "Hayram? What is it? Is there a problem?"

Hayram shook his head. "No, Master. No problem. We saved the doctor. He's resting in the medical bay."

"Congratulations," the Master said, inclining his head with a smile. "We've got a chance at beating Angral yet." He frowned when Hayram did not respond as enthusiastically as expected. "Something else on your mind?"

"Yes, Master," Hayram said, pausing to consider his words. "I... had a question I was wondering you could answer for me. To the best of your ability, I mean."

"Certainly," Orgus shrugged. "I'll do my best."

Hayram drew in a breath. "Do you... ever wonder why Imperials fight?"

Orgus considered, brow furrowing. The older Jedi finally said, "I expect they fight why most people fight. Family, a sense of duty or honor. Perspective, really."

Hayram's shoulders slumped, deflated. "Perspective?"

The Master shrewdly crossed his arms as he regarded his former apprentice. "What were you wanting to hear? That everyone in the Empire is evil? A mad Sith Lord looking to kill for the fun of it?"

Hayram tossed the idea around in his mind before dismissing it. "Not exactly..."

Orgus sighed heavily. "Hayram, one day you'll learn that perspective is the most critical of factors in just about _any_ situation involving a sentient being. It's what separates us and brings us together, and a good Jedi knows how to discern differing perspectives and show what common ground there is to be crossed."

"What if there isn't any?"

The Master answered, "Well, then you get a situation like we have right now. With Angral," he added pointedly.

"I retrieved the doctor from Imperial Intelligence," he said. "The Watcher, their leader, had me by the throat, and I only survived from a mixture of luck and little T7. When I had the upper hand, he... well... gave up."  
Orgus asked interestedly, "And this bothers you?"

"Yeah... He'd been a devoted servant for years. I should have been his mortal enemy. He should have fought to the death. Instead he accepted that he'd lose and waited for me to kill him."

The older man gave his student a piercing look. "Did you?"

"...No. I couldn't. He wasn't fighting." _At least I still have that much control, at least..._ "I had to let him go, or he'd commit suicide to prevent us from gaining any secrets. But he can't return to the Empire, either, for fear of torture." He rubbed at his chin. "I wonder if I've condemned him to some kind of purgatory..."

"I think it was the right choice," Orgus decided firmly, surprising Hayram.

"You do?"

"Yes... It was the Jedi thing to do. You expected him, this Watcher, to be a fanatic. He wasn't. He was a soldier, doing his duty and ready to die for what he thought was right. Now replace 'Watcher' with yourself. Kira. Any Republic trooper. See how context changes, and with it our perspective."

It was definitely food for thought, and though it made his stomach churn Hayram chewed on it. "Hmm."

"That's why it's important to remain calm and impartial," Orgus finished. "We're Jedi. We can see this and give mercy when others wouldn't. Imagine if this Watcher had been born on Coruscant. Or Caridia. Or Alderaan. Would he have been the same? Possibly. Likely not.

"You're learning, Hayram. It's part of every Jedi's journey, and I'm proud that you didn't give into your passions. For what it's worth, it's this old man's opinion that you're well on your way to becoming a great Jedi."

The words touched Hayram deeply, and he bowed his head, smiled. "It... means a lot, Master Orgus. Thank you."

The older man nodded gruffly. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got more pandering and polite whining to listen to from these nobles, and I'd _really_ like to get back to it..."

"I won't keep you," Hayram chuckled. "May the Force be with you."

"And with you, Hayram." Orgus cut the connection and his image dissipated, leaving Hayram alone in the circular main hold.

Or, he'd thought he was alone, until Doctor Godera spoke from the stairwell from the bottom deck. "He's wrong, you know," the elderly genius said softly, tired eyes boring into Hayram. Godera was a frail, thin, balding man, but he carried an invisible kind of weight on his back that left him with a limp to his walk, a hunch to his posture.

Hayram almost felt like he could relate, as the thought of Angral crossed his mind again.

"Doctor," he said, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"The Imperials are _nothing_ like us," Godera spat lowly, one hand bracing himself against the wall, the other clenched into a fist. "They burn worlds for nothing but sport. They blindly follow the commands of their insane masters, all for power. They are _all_ the same."

Hayram stopped in his walk to the old man, startled by the visceral, intense nature of his attitude. "... I'm not so sure we should make that kind of judgment."

"Fool _boy_," Godera huffed. "The Sith and the Empire are a plague that has to be _purged_."

And suddenly Hayram looked into the Force, into Godera's star, and saw the darkness there, the utter hatred and blind rage. He thought, _Is that what I was? Is that what I would have become?_

He shuddered, blinking in astonishment and dark realization.

"That's why I designed the projects, you know," Godera continued, limping to the holoprojector in the center of the hold, ignoring Hayram's discomfort. "To end this war. Oh, those senators banished me when my methods were too _harsh_ for their naïve public to stomach, but now that war is on the horizon, they want me again... of course they do..." He inserted a datastick from within his jumpsuit, tapped at the controls.

"What're you-" Hayram began, but stopped when a holoimage appeared above the projector. A man in an armored suit, carrying a large rifle.

"It was a plan for utter invasion and domination," Godera said. "This was the first stage. The Power Guard Project. A series of cybernetic warriors able to stand toe-to-toe with a Sith and kill them. They would storm Imperial planets and slaughter their populations. We could use them to spare the infrastructure and ecosystems, and usable by our own military."

Specifications came onto the display, many numbers referencing speed, strength, the level of implants embedded into the men, but Hayram saw it all as the nightmare it was. _Force... What did the Doctor do?..._

"It's... it's..." In the end, he couldn't find a word to describe it, the heavy feeling of fear in his gut at the sight. "That kind of soldier would be unstoppable. If they can defeat a Sith..."  
"They can defeat anything," Godera agreed. "One of my finer inspirations," he added with satisfaction, grinning up at the display.

A fresh wave of unease gathered in Hayram's stomach, and finally he put a word to it. "Monstrous," he labeled.

"Necessary," Godera retorted, and unsettled Hayram further by using the phrase he'd so often uttered.

Hayram narrowed his eyes. "Doctor, return to the medical bay. We'll head to Nar Shaddaa soon, and I _insist_ that you remain under our care for the duration of the journey."

Godera sniffed. "I need to return to Coruscant. Meet with General Var'Suthra."

"We don't have the time," the Jedi insisted. "If these... creations are as dangerous as you say, any longer we wait the Empire can use to build more of them."

"Listen to me, Jedi. I-"

"It's _necessary_," Hayram snapped, glowering at the man.

Godera glared back. "You'll learn," he muttered. "The longer you play this game, the better you get at it, and eventually you learn how few rules there are. You're naïve now. Not for long." And he turned away to limp back down the stairs.

Hayram watched him leave and stared at the same spot for several seconds; not until Kira tapped his shoulder did he break from his thoughts. "Hey?" she asked, dressed in fresh robes and dabbing at her ears with a towel, hair damp; she'd obviously just been in the refresher. "What happened?"

He shook his head, trying to clear it in vain. "I just don't think I like this whole business. It's getting worse already."

She shrugged. "I'd be more concerned if you weren't bothered by it," she said, and suddenly Hayram felt a spot of sunshine where Godera's gloom had been.

"You're right," he said slowly, smiling.

"Come on, now. You _worry_ way too much for me to be concerned about you," she smirked, and bounded off to the cockpit.

He watched her go, but even with her point he couldn't quite get Godera's words from his mind.

More than anything, he hoped that the old man's predication wouldn't turn out to be true.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: I made Godera more serious. I mean, come on. He's more interesting this way, and acts as a wonderful foreshadowing device. He was always a little too silly and light in the game for me, at any rate.**

**Next stop: Nar Shaddaa! Events you can expect include these keywords: Catch, Rockets, Karate, Kiss.**

**Also, before I forget, I'd like to mention that if any of you have any ideas for vignettes, feel free to drop them by me in a review or PM.**

**And finally, I've a question for all of you. The ship will be named in the near future, and I've got several names in mind. That said, if any of you have ideas for the ship, let me know. If I use it, I'll credit you and you can have a pat on the back from yourself.**

**And thanks again to all of you who reviewed and have continued to support. I appreciate it all. :)**


	28. Push- Kira Carsen

**Push- Kira Carsen**

"Nar Shaddaa," Kira announced dully, as the ship exited hyperspace and the planet came into view, the great, fat, gray, ugly, irritating, blob-like, disgusting, miserable wretch of a world she'd spent too much time on. "The junkyard of the galaxy." A sense of unease was growing within her. Here, she'd been found by Kiwiiks, but she'd also done many things here. Worse things...

"Actually," Hayram said thoughtfully from the seat beside her, "I think that's Raxus Prime."

"Shut up," she groaned, flicking a candy wrapper at him from her copilot's seat.

"You're so mature," he teased, grabbing the wrapper with the Force and crumpling it properly, then telekinetically disposing it in the small bin in the corner of the cockpit.

She stared at him. "Seriously? Did you _have_ to do the folding thing?"

He cleared his throat and adjusted the controls as he took the ship in for landing.

Her fidgety mood persisted as they entered the atmosphere, the window outside turning orange as they descended from Hayram's competent piloting. Memories startled to bubble to the surface of her thought so she scrabbled for a distraction. "So what're we going to name this thing, anyway?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, what are we going to name her?" She patted the dashboard console affectionately. "She's lasted so far. A month. Or so. Put up with us and our shenanigans. That deserves a name."

"Well," he said carefully, "what do you think? Any ideas?"

She considered. "The _Ebon Falcon_."

Her companion gave a rare, full laugh. "No," he said shortly, grinning.

She gaped at him. "What's so bad about that?"

"I'm pretty sure it's taken."

"There are _millions_ of ships. _Everything_ is taken."

"Even so, I think something unique would be nice."

"We'd have to come up with something ridiculous." He raised a brow at her challengingly, and she crossed her arms. "Fine. Watch. I'll come up with the best name in the galaxy to placate your need to be special."

"You're so kind," he replied dryly, as the ship finally lowered enough to see the endless cityscape. "I'm landing us in the entertainment sector. Near the promenade. Godera seems to think there's an SIS base there."  
"There _is_ one," the old man insisted as he hobbled to the cockpit, having refused any kind of crutch or cane-like support. He peered out the window, scanning the city. "I remember the locations from when I last hacked the Republic databases..."

Kira raised a brow at Hayram, who shrugged gruffly and promptly went back to piloting the ship. _Huh. Some kind of issue between them..._ When she looked at Godera, she saw a frail old man with a cranky attitude and a permanent scowl. In the Force, he was considerably darker, like a sleeping, wounded beast.

Still, Kira thought the best thing to do with Godera was the same thing she did will most old people: ignore him.

"I'll be staying put on the ship," the doctor muttered, turning around and shuffling back down the corridor to the main hold, and Hayram let out a long sigh when he had gone.

"Tension much?" she mused, frowning at the sight of the buildings. _Force, I'd hoped never to come back..._

"You care to elaborate for once?" he said suddenly, and she swallowed.

"... It's just that you two seem to-"

"I meant about you. I can feel your stress." He fixed her with a serious but concerned look. "Kira, what's wrong? Can you sense something?"

She shifted in her seat, sliding down slightly as her thoughts turned to the email she had read days before. "It's nothing, tough guy. I've been to Nar Shaddaa before and it's not the best place to be."

He guided the ship lower until they were cruising the skylanes, headed for a free landing pad. "I'd have thought this planet to be more along your lines, actually. Less laws to break, more common people, a grounded sort of life..."  
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do," she snapped, and looked away and out the window before she could recognize his hurt expression.

They were quiet for a long few moments, as he located a free docking space and touched the vessel down. Only when the clamps had firmly set the craft onto the deck did he remove his hands from the control pads and remark, "You're right. I guess I don't," and stand to leave her in the cockpit, meeting up with T7 at the ramp-like stairs to exit the ship. The little droid twooted happily as they descended, leaving Kira alone with the hum of the ship for company, and the bruise of Hayram's injured feelings echoing through the Force around their little local space.

It was really terrible company, too, but nothing more than she deserved. She crossed her arms in frustration, feeling the lights and lives of the planet scratching at her mind like ants. _Damnit. He's not trying to be... ugh. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Not his fault, anyway... _

_ Besides, even if he knew what happened here, it's not like he could judge..._ She snorted to herself at that. _Some Jedi we are..._

Gathering her courage, she stood and smoothed her robes before checking for her lightsaber and belt and exiting the ship to find the other two.

They were bartering with some docking official, a twi'lek with was chattering in Huttese at Hayram about the fee. The Jedi answered in Basic, attempting to lower the price but eventually sighing and handing over a credichip, albeit reluctantly.

She bit her lip as she approached him and the astromech. "Exorbitant?" she tried lamely.

He shrugged. "I should've expected as much. This is a Hutt world, after all." He was much more neutral, less friendly but not rude, and he was pointedly avoiding her gaze.

"Hey," she continued persistently. "About that, I didn't-"

He cut her off with a chop of his hand to the empty air. "It's none of my business," he stated shortly. "Sorry I asked. Come on, T7." And he started to walk, the droid loyally following.

Kira felt her own chest pang with rejection. _Damn it all. He's just doing what he always does._ She felt her growing misery worsen as she considered that, remembered the times he'd involved himself with the settlers on Taris, with the people of Tython. He _always_ was interested in people, trying to see how he could help them. He was a fixer, and she'd refused his help.

Would it really be so bad? _Yes_, she brooded. _He'd judge you for what you were. Maybe what you are._ Kira was far from a perfect Jedi, and Hayram didn't seem to have much of a problem with that, but the things she'd done before Kiwiiks had pulled her from the street were something else entirely.

A stray thought crawled into the forefront of her mind and whispered something interesting and a little scandalous. _Yeah... but he never took offense at other people refusing help... only with me..._

And she stared at his retreating back, eyebrows raised to disappear into her ginger hair. _...Huh..._

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: A shorter chapter this time, but every time I extended it the scene didn't feel right. Here we are, and the next chapter will introduce a new POV for this fic.**

**Thanks again for all the reviews, guys, and to all of you for reading in general. :) I makes me feel great to know that this fic is enjoyed by so many.**

**The ideas for vignettes is always open, and I'm still taking suggestions for ship names. Your chances are higher if they fulfill the criteria Kira and Hayram discuss at the beginning of this vignette. Until next time...**


	29. Conscripted- Agent Galen

**Conscripted- Agent Galen**

Rieekan was raging again, and Galen allowed a hearty sigh to escape his lips.

The Jedi was calm, holding up a placating hand. "Captain, I assure you that-"

Captain Rieekan would have none of it. "I don't care how important your mission is, Antilles," he growled lowly, fists clenching as a vein bulged on his forehead. "You _don't_ come barging in here and demanding to know _classified_ military secrets!"

"I understand your concern-"

"No!" Rieekan gasped. "That's just it! You have _no _idea how to operate in secrecy. This is an _intelligence_ agency, Jedi. Not a blunt sword to be waved around at the enemy."

Antilles' lips pressed into a thin line, and Galen knew restraint when he saw it. "Sir, they had the proper clearance codes," he pointed out.

"And then didn't follow procedure," Rieekan countered. "As far as I'm concerned, unless I get a call from Var'Suthra himself I want these two out of my base."

"Wouldn't that just risk giving away your position more?" Antilles questioned fairly.

"What's this button do?" the female Jedi, Carsen, asked from across the room, and tapped a console.

Rieekan nearly exploded.

Moments later, Galen had excused himself and escorted the Jedi from the SIS base, away from the fit the Captain was throwing. "You sure know how to light a forest fire," he remarked dryly as they entered the Promenade. The Nar Shaddaa night was glimmering with lights from a thousand cities stretched across the planet, and the golden statue of the Hutt in the center of the grand presidium gleamed grotesquely. "Little Coruscant", they had called it when Galen had been assigned here.

Galen decided it was Coruscant without any kind of security and if someone with a horrible taste in aesthetics had been given charge of decoration.

"I _do_ like lighting fires," Carsen mused, though the retort was drained, tired, not quite into it. Galen mentally shrugged; she had been distant all throughout the meeting.

"I remember you," Antilles suddenly said, pointing a friendly finger. "You were on Coruscant."

"That's right," Galen affirmed with a nod. "Var'Suthra assigned me here, tasked me with tracking down information on the Power Guard Project. The SIS has been on it ever since Angral made his threat across Republic space."

Antilles looked calculating. "I don't suppose there's any way you could tell us what you found?"

Galen shook his head, disappointment of his own matching that of the Jedi. "Unfortunately, we haven't been very successful. The Sith are very good at hiding what they don't want found. Imperial Intelligence, for the most part, beats us in technology and tactics." He grunted as a bitter afterthought, "Not in training, though."

Antilles crossed his arms, tapped his foot as he thought. The little astromech at their side chirped inquiringly, and thankfully the Jedi seemed to know what it said. "Right. Anything at all? Even a name?"

Galen wracked his mind. "Hmm... Sadic. The man in charge is Sadic. Beyond that, we know that the Project is centered somewhere in the Industrial Sector. Probably beneath one of the factories, where we can't reach yet."

"T7?" the Jedi asked, and in seconds the droid was beeping frantically, trying to convey some kind of information. "Sadic is a Sith Lord?" he breathed.

Galen frowned; anything worrying enough to upset a Jedi was something _he'd_ worry about, too. "How-?"

"He sliced an Imperial Intelligence Watcher's files," Antilles answered. "There was a personnel list there." He looked to his droid. "Anything else? Damn."

"A Sith Lord in the Industrial Sector," Galen pondered, putting a hand to his chin. "We can start there."

Antilles raised a brow from beneath the dark hood he wore. "I don't understand. Why can't we just ask the Hutts? It's not like they can refuse."

Galen stopped, then chortled when he realized Antilles was being serious. "Look, I know you're new here, but..."  
He and Carsen looked at each other with a resigned sort of fatigue. "Tell me we're _not_ going to be delayed again," he sighed.

She patted his arm gently. "Relax. You'll be fine."  
Galen raised a brow at the exchange. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Carsen answered. "Continue, Agent. Educate our sheltered companion."

He inclined his head; obviously, she was the street smart of the two. "We can't march into gang-controlled territory waving a weapon around. It's owned by the Hutts, and more than likely the Sith are there in secret. At the most, they've bribed guards or Hutts to keep their presence minimally known. The only reason we deduced it is the amount of supplies disappearing from the region."

Antilles nodded regretfully. "Alright. You're the spy. What now?"

Galen looked back to the SIS base. "Actually, I'm not sure. Maybe I can get some answers from Rieekan."

"No more chain of command," Antilles interjected flatly, cutting across the air with his hand. "It takes too long. We know that from experience. Do you have experience in field work?"

Galen felt a growing sense of confusion. "Uh... yes?"  
"Good. You're conscripted by the Jedi Order for assistance on a mission of galactic importance."  
_What?_ "What?" He looked to Carsen. "Is that...?"

Antilles produced a datapad, eyes fixed to Galen with unnerving intensity, like glinting steel. "I received the right by Var'Suthra himself. I need your help, and we don't have time to waste climbing the ladder. Can you do that?"

Galen swallowed, looking at the report. It was genuine, from what he could tell. Still, to be taken straight from his command? It didn't sit right with him. And Antilles had spoken so coldly... like he was some kind of tool.

But if the reports were right, and the Power Guard Project was as dangerous as people claimed it was... Galen only had one responsible choice. "I... sure. Yeah. I'm in."

"Alright. Then don't even bother reporting to Rieekan. We'll handle it by holo. T7?" The droid's light winked as it remotely communicated with the SIS station, and Galen was taken aback for a moment how quickly the Jedi had taken charge. "You're in the lead, Agent. What do we do?"

And just like that, Galen was responsible for tracking down a Sith Lord. _Good luck_, he congratulated himself ruefully. He wasn't one to shirk a challenge, and went to work.

"We need contacts," he said. "People moving into the Industrial Sector who can watch for us. Then we need bribes. We need the guards to alert us to other bribes. It would help if we got a Hutt in on it, too. That'll narrow down the location of Sadic."

Antilles nodded quickly, and Galen's keen eyes noted the twitch in his jaw. He'd seen it before; it was a mark of masked pain. The Jedi didn't seem to be injured, but- "It's a start. Where do we start?"

"Actually, I have an idea," Carsen spoke up, then shrunk back, as if ashamed.

These two were the _strangest_ Jedi Galen had ever met.

"Kira?" Antilles asked quietly.

"... I know a few people. Or I did. I'll talk to them, see what comes up." She looked away, brushed a strand of hair from her face distractedly.

"That's good," Galen supplied. "You act like you know Nar Shaddaa."

"Yeah, she does," Antilles remarked mysteriously.

"We'll cover more ground if we split up." He smirked at Antilles. "Come with me. I'll introduce you to some people."

The Jedi looked to each other, having some kind of silent conversation. "You'll be fine," she assured Antilles.

"I wondered the same about you," he replied. "Take T7."

She sighed again but nodded. "Come on, little guy," she muttered, and turned from the group to proceed down a bustling Promenade street.

Galen watched her go, the way she wove in between crowds and seemed to know where she was going. He was observant enough, and he knew that she had most definitely been here before.

"Agent," Antilles said. "How long is this going to take?"

Galen considered before answering. "I don't know, Master Jedi. If we're lucky, we'll have a few answers to widen our search patterns in a day or so. Then we can start narrowing down locations."  
The Jedi rubbed the back of his neck roughly. "...Fine."

"Look," Galen said calmly, "Nar Shaddaa is a big place, but there are patterns in the planet. Once we find the first piece, the rest will be easier to track down. It's all in the people."

Antilles cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

Galen searched for an example. "Like with your Padawan. She's been here before."

"How can you tell?"  
He shrugged. "Little things. The way she walks. She doesn't look at signs. She takes shortcuts. She knows how to dodge through crowds. She didn't take a second to look at the lights and statue like you did."  
Antilles seemed brooding. "Interesting," he murmured. "I hope you're right about the time frame." He started to walk, and Galen followed.

"This Project," he said after a moment. "What was it for?"  
Antilles replied lowly, "It was designed to fight and kill Force users. If Sadic completes it, it's possible the entire Jedi Order might be at risk."

Galen whistled. "Damn. When are you calling the others?"

"No others."

The Agent stopped short. "You said Sadic was a Sith Lord."

"I did."

"Then how are you going to stop him? I thought Sith Lords were... like... Jedi _Masters_, or something. If you people even have ranks. And if he has a squad of those Power Guards-"

"I'm going to stop Sadic the way you can stop just about anything, Agent," Antilles said, and half-turned, the light forming a shadow beneath his hood. "I'll run him through with a lightsaber. And I'll cut down anyone that gets in my way, Power Guards or not."

Jedi didn't normally talk like that, but Galen had definitely read Antilles by now and knew he was dealing with someone different. And Force help him, Galen believed every word the Jedi said.

Especially the last part.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: Author's notes are now on my profile page. They will be listed by chapter from this point forward.**


	30. Hometown- Enaq

**Hometown- Enaq**

It had been so many years, Enaq almost didn't recognize her.

But while the physical features were there, masked under years of growth and Jedi robes, Kira Carsen was someone he would always be able to spot in a crowd. It wasn't her sharp red hair or her sky blue eyes or her pale skin, a combination rare amongst the humans of Nar Shaddaa. It was, instead, the way she carried herself, moving with the familiar wary stance, the eyes flicking about cautiously, all covered by a strong, sure gait and brisk steps.

She was still pretending, Enaq realized with a frown from where he watched, hidden in a corner of their camp and bundled beneath a blanket. A little droid was with her, trundling along the durasteel floor and swiveling its head to regard Enaq.

"Kira Carsen," he called quietly, as she passed his tent.

She stopped suddenly, eyes flashing to his. "... Enaq?"

The small evocii smiled toothily, warmth blossoming in his breast as he shrugged the blanket off to stand. "My... is it really you, my friend?!"

Kira's grin matched his own and the two collided in a firm embrace. Enaq clutched her tightly, suddenly so very, very happy that she was here. Now, of all times. What good fortune for them all...

"It's me," she said softly, sniffling slightly, but he knew she was happy rather than sad. "Force, Enaq," she breathed, pulling back to look at him. "You look... the same." She snorted, chuckled deeply, as the droid beeped lightly, apparently happy to see a friend of its master.

"Can't say the same for you," he replied. "Look better. Healthier. Happier." He smiled again. "A Jedi."

"Yep." She flicked the hilt at her belt. "A Jedi Padawan. Not quite a Knight yet, but I'll get there."

Enaq shook his head, marveling. "You came back. You got my message."

"Of course I did," she smiled, eyes beaming with joy. There was something else there, though, something buried beneath and hidden with layers.

"Kira," he pressed. "Are you... alright?"

"Yeah," she nodded quickly. "Just... odd to be home." She looked about them at the dingy camp, with shambled tents and dirtied clothes strewn about. The refuge was for those unlucky enough to be in servitude to the Hutts, or jobless. "Home," she tasted the word, rubbing at her neck. "Hmm. So. You called, I answered. What's going on, Enaq?"

Enaq opened his mouth to respond but someone else interrupted, a voice that made his head duck instinctively. "_You_!"

Kira whirled to face the newcomer, eyes narrowing. "Darshyn. Nice to see you too."

The elder evocii rasped in a breath from the small machine attached to his mouth and nose, watery, beady eyes glinting darkly as he scanned Enaq's friend. "You shouldn't be here," he growled lowly. "I thought you had gone for good."

"That makes two of us," she snapped back, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm not staying, Darshyn. I just bumped into Enaq. That a problem? Are you setting limits as to who can talk to who now?"

The old man shook his head disgustedly. "You have no idea what you speak of, young one. I always tried to protect these people, and the last time you were here you endangered us all. It is only a matter of time until it happens again."

Enaq came to her defense. "Elder," he said gently, trying to calm Darshyn, "Kira Carsen _saved_ us. Do you not remember?"

"We're _not_ talking about this," Kira interjected, glaring down at the elder. "I'm going to finish talking to my _friend_, and then I'll go. Satisfied?"

"No," Darshyn stated flatly. "Get out now."

"You can't order me around anymore," she retorted. "I'm not some little girl."

"No," Darshyn repeated. "You are a grave threat."

"What's going on here?" a new speaker announced, male, and Enaq looked to see another Jedi stride into the camp.

He was tall and lean, built like a predator that chased, and his face was angular and of a slightly darker skin tone than Kira's. His eyes were blue as well, though... sharper. More crystalline, gray. He entered the camp with a stride of authority, gazing around at the evocii equally.

Equally. Like he didn't think of them as lesser. It was a strange sight.

"Hayram?" Kira blurted, looking at him as though he were a strange creature.

"Another outside," Darshyn muttered, and the little droid by Kira's side _twooed_ nervously.

"Kira?" Enaq asked questioningly, placing a hand on her arm. "This your friend?"

"What are you doing here?" she snapped suddenly, moving to stand before the other Jedi.

Hayram, he was called, answered neutrally, "I came to check on you. You felt... off," he added somewhat tenderly.

Enaq's brows came together in puzzlement, but then he saw the way the male was holding himself, almost reaching a hand out to Kira. He understood. "Ah," he said in understanding. "Kira, you did not tell me you had a mate!"  
Somehow he said something wrong, because a moment later his ears were burning from the incredulous looks both Jedi and Darshyn fixed upon him. "Uh... what did I say?" he wondered.

"Mate?" Hayram repeated.

"Enaq!" Kira gasped.

The astromech squealed.

"This has gone far enough," Darshyn interjected, stepping forward to confront the new outsider. "Jedi, this camp is not a place for you. Leave. Now."

The male Jedi set his jaw. "Not until I find out what's going on."

"Kira just come to say hello," Enaq offered, feeling foolish somehow. "Say hello to friend, Enaq." He gestured at himself.

"Then why-"

"Look, _tough guy_," Kira snapped, jabbing a pointed finger into Hayram's chest. "I didn't need your help, and I _don't_ want you following me. I don't need your help, _or _your babysitting."

The male looked affronted and insulted. "...I was just trying to figure out-"

"That's it, Hayram!" she growled. "You _can't_ just figure everything out. I'm not a puzzle!"

"I didn't mean-"

"Leave!" she commanded, pointing her finger away from the camp, and silence descended upon the onlookers; a small gathering of evocii had coalesced to watch the display.

It only took a moment for Darshyn to stare into Kira's eyes and menacingly add, "You as well. Go now."

Kira's lip trembled for only a second before she stormed off, marching away into the darkened corridors of the superstructure. Enaq looked between the Jedi and Darshyn, but Hayram spoke first, looking troubled. "Uh... Hey."  
Enaq frowned. "...Hey," he repeated lamely.

"Um... You're Kira's friend?"

"I am. Yes. You are... something?"

"Huh?"

"Not her mate?"

The Jedi put a hand to his temple. "...No."

Enaq held up his hands. "Apologies, Jedi. In evocii, mating much simpler. Less... silly." Another sigh, but Enaq pushed on. "Kira was here because I called her."

Hayram's head perked up. "You what?"

"Needed her help," he insisted, but Darshyn put a firm grip on his shoulder.

"No, _we don't_," he corrected. "Enaq was impulsive when he called the murderer back here."

The air tensed. "What did you call her?" Hayram whispered.

"Murderer," Darshyn spat. "A butcher. That's exactly what she is."

Enaq shook his head fiercely. "No! Kira Carsen is a _hero_. She _saved_ us."

"She ruined us," the elder moaned.

"Wait, _hold on_," Hayram said. "Why did you call Kira?"

"It was a _mis_-"

"_You_!" the Jedi hissed. "Silence. I'm trying to talk to Enaq." Surprisingly, Darshyn remained quiet, though his small eyes glared wonders at his oppressor.

Enaq shrugged helplessly. "It was Ceran Matthias. He's back."

The Jedi contemplated this. "Who is he?"

"A hunter. A hunter of evocii."

The air chilled, and Hayram's fists closed and opened reflexively. "I see."

"He... was notorious many years ago," Enaq recalled after a moment. "He hunted many of our people on Hutta and here. Eventually, he tracked down my brother. Kira Carsen stopped him, but now... he is back. I do not think he was dead, as she believed."

"And we will handle it ourselves," Darshyn cut in. "Carsen caused more misery than she prevented."

Hayram looked back down the corridor through which Kira had fled. "Enaq..." he said quietly, like he feared the answer, "what happened?"

Darshyn was looking particularly unhelpful, so the small evocii gestured. "Come. Walk with me," he said. "I will tell you the story."

**(O)(O)(O)**


	31. Childhood- Enaq

**Childhood- Enaq**

Enaq slipped into memory...

**(O)(O)(O)**

It had been quite a while since my last meal when I first met her.

You see, in order for you to understand me I must first explain how I lived. It will... highlight how strange she was. Forgive me if my speech is not exact. Human minds are a bit different from ours.

Now. I was born on Hutta, raised as a servant for Nem'ro the Hutt, one of the biggest gangsters on that world. I toiled all day for little money or gratitude, and saw that it was destined to be my fate forever. There were many evocii on Hutta, as it is our home. However, I knew that I could not remain there and be happy. I was so young. Naive. Perhaps, Jedi, I still am.

Nonetheless, I sought to evade the shadow of destiny and hid aboard a transport freighter when I was nine cycles old. I did not know where it was going or what I would do when it landed, but I believed that anything would be better than another day on that swampy planet.

That's all Hutta is, really. A swampland, taken by slugs who ought to have been born there.

You can likely figure out what happened next. I landed here, and sneaked off the ship, making my way into the city. It was wondrous. So many lights and people. The smells were varied. The tastes incredible. For you, I am sure that Nar Shaddaa seems like garbage pit. But to me, paradise was what it was.

At first, that is. Then I learned that evocii are not equals anywhere in the galaxy, or at least not anywhere I have been. I came hoping to find work, but I could not. So many people, all of them... not evocii. All of them better, I was told. So work was nowhere. I had nowhere to go.

Most of my people end up here, in slums. We work small jobs, for desperate employers, for little pay. We do not make enough to have a home, so we sleep together in camps like this. It is best for us, because at least we have each other, and a family of sorts.

But problems come from gangs. Nar Shaddaa has no police, and anyone with a blaster or muscles can take what he wants from others. For a little person like myself, this is dangerous and bad.

Darshyn has been our elder for a long time. He was not always so... strict. Once he let people in, even if they were not evocii. "Treat others as if they were evocii," he said to me once. Now he is different. So much is. Yet again, so much is the same. Very little changes on Nar Shaddaa. Some people call it the "Moon Frozen in Time".

I am rambling, Master Jedi. I apologize. Let me continue.

Darshyn was our elder when the gangs began to attack. They would bully us, take our money and once in a while a droid or mechanical part. We did not have a defense, so Darshyn tried to pacify them with words. They did not listen, and burned his tongue with a blaster. That is why he wears that mask, Master Jedi. He needs it to speak at all.

When I spoke of my brother before, I did not mean a brother of blood. No, this evocii, Jarn, was my dearest friend. I met him in this camp, right over there, in that tent. We were of the same age, and both male, and I suppose that it is the way of things that we teamed up. We took jobs together and protected each other. A human will not think twice of pushing down one evocii. Two? He thinks first, because the other can jump on his back while he is not looking.

Jarn was my brother in spirit, Jedi. I was the younger of us, and he always urged me to look up at the sky at night. We would leave the camp specifically to do this, and for the longest time I did not know why we searched for a slum where we could catch a glimpse of the stars.

But eventually I knew that he was trying to keep me dreaming. If we could see the stars, he said, we could reach them one day.

I am certain that I loved him until he died.

It was not a bandit raid. The gangsters ransacked our camp occasionally, but we learned to live with it. No, it was when Ceran Matthias came that things became... bad.

But first, your friend. Not mate, of course. I apologize for that again. My misunderstanding.

Kira Carsen first wandered into our camp on a Datunda. Jarn and I were playing with sticks, swordfighting. Jarn was always better than I, and bested me easily. I fell to the ground and saw her. She was very small. I think she was still a child, perhaps nine or ten cycles old. Her hair was very short, cut to her skull, and there was a large cut on her cheek. That is where the scar comes from, I believe.

She was bundled in many layers of clothing, a coat and two shirts and a skirt covering pants. I think that she wanted to look... bigger than she was. To defend herself. She was very dirty and looked tired, but she saw Jarn and me and smiled at the play.

I remember her first words. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" she said, challenging my brother.

He was never one to refuse a fight, and tossed her my stick. She caught it with such practice I knew she would be the best swordfighter among us, and within seconds she had beaten Jarn with many bruises. It was quite funny, Master Jedi.

Darshyn found us, since we were making much noise, and asked why Kira Carsen was there. She was nervous, and held the stick like she would hit the elder. I could not allow that, so I said that she was playing with us. Darshyn looked at her and saw how dirty she was and realized that she was homeless. At least, I think she was homeless. Why would she come to us unless she was running away?

I never did find out where she was running from. Perhaps she had been a slave once, too, but I suspect it has to do with her scar.

Anyway, Jedi, Jarn and I urged Darshyn to let Kira stay with us. After much pestering, he agreed, but said that she would have to get her own tent. That was fine with us; me and Jarn found her a cloth and pipes for a tent and we would play there, making many games and laughing into the night. We were a trio, a human and two evocii. Who would have thought?

Kira Carsen stayed with us for four years. She helped us find food and money. She used computers well. Sometimes she could steal airspeeders and sell them. That was... incredible. She had such bravery. And she never let anyone pick on me or Jarn. One time, we had finished a job mopping a kitchen and the owner wanted his money back, but fiery Kira was there, and she shouted him down and when he threatened to call his security she knocked him out cold! Can you believe that, Master Jedi?!

We were a great team, we three. And then Ceran Matthias came.

Matthias was a tall, very pale-skinned man with black hair. He had a beard, too, I think. He had come from Hutta, where he was hunting evocii for sport. Apparently, he had killed too many of Nem'ro's workers, and was shipped off as punishment. Now, though, he came here for his fun.

We did not know of him until he came into our camp one night, and he dragged off one of our women. She screamed into the night, but we did not find her until a week later, in a sewer we were exploring. Jarn and I threw up, but I remember that Kira just... stared. Disgusted, was she, but also... understanding. She could handle it. She was always so strong.

Another adult vanished a few nights later, when he'd been called for a job. Then another. Three of our, murdered by knives. It was awful. Kira and Jarn and me huddled in our tent, hoping that he would leave. Kira made us promise to take care of one another, if anything happened. We all promised.

But then...

Then, Master Jedi, forgive me, for my emotion. Jarn and I were playing without Kira. She had stayed behind to sleep, because she had stayed awake at night to watch for Matthias. We were just looking for interesting things in a junk heap when we saw the man.

He stared at us from atop a broken holonet receiver, and he was fiddling with a knife in his hand. Jarn and I froze. I remember the fear.

Jarn was so brave. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The man spoke his name, and his voice was so oily and dark. I remember how it made me shiver. "Matthias," he said. "Ceran Matthias. You're interesting little animals. I love hearing you squeal."

I think, when I remember, that he was not well. A man like Matthias must be insane. Still, it does not make what he did any easier.

He started walking toward us and we ran. Jarn and I took off down an alley, but we were small and his legs were larger. Before we made it to the other side and into a crowd, Matthias caught up with us. He tackled me. His scent was musty and old. The knife came at me and almost stabbed me, but Jarn jumped on Matthias' back, pummeling him with his fists. One of them his the man's temple and he fell off me.

I scrambled to my feet and Jarn told me to run. I always listened to Jarn. Always. It had always...

Matthias grabbed Jarn by his neck and help him up like he weighed nothing. He cut his blade into Jarn's stomach. I couldn't stop watching while my brother screamed and cried. There was so much blood. So much...

And Matthias... he was _smiling_.

I ran when he looked at me. I left my brother there. I was so scared, Master Jedi. I am shaking now, just reliving it. Oh, forgive me...

Oh... my... I ran home to Kira. I told her what happened. Cried about it. Wept for my brother. I remember that she... held me there. She was quite still. Very quiet. She did not blink much. And after I told her what had happened to Jarn, she made me promise to stay in the tent and not to follow her. I panicked at first, because I thought she would be in danger, but she promised to be back soon. I agreed to stay, and Kira left me, taking a pipe from the tent. It was the middle of the night.

I fell asleep sometime after, but when I awoke it was because the camp was murmuring. I rushed to the camp entrance and I saw Kira, and she still had her pipe. I remember gasping, because it was very red and stained with bits of... flesh...

Her face was red, too. There was blood on her skin, and her clothes, and the pipe, and she was soaked in it. Jarn's body was in her hands, and she carried him very gently into the camp. She walked right past me; she wouldn't look into my eyes. She laid Jarn on the floor of our tent, and backed away.

I think she was crying, but I could not tell from all the blood on her face. Darshyn rushed to her, demanding to know what had happened, and I remember her words. They were cold. She almost sounded like Matthias.

"Watch the holonet," she said, and then she gave me a sad little smile. I tried to smile back, but I couldn't.

Then Kira Carsen walked out of our camp and into the depths of Nar Shaddaa. I did not know what happened to her until she sent me a message a few years later.

I did watch the holonet, though. I took a job as a garbage boy, and saw a holonet broadcast on a receiver in a small restaurant. It spoke of a vicious murder of the mercenary Ceran Matthias, and how the body had been... disfigured. Mutilated, I think they used. The news also said how the attacker had come from our camp.

From that point on, people were scared of us. They believed one of us had killed Matthias, and Darshyn has fought against it ever since. Now, few people will trade with us, and most are fearful of coming near us. The gangs do not bother us, but work is harder to get. It is... difficult, most of the time.

I have remained here, with the memory of my brother and Kira. I got a message, I told you. It was a letter, handwritten on flimsiplast. She left it in one of our favorite spots that I revisited when I was lonely one day. It told me that she was going to become a Jedi, and to take care of myself, and that she was very, very sorry for what she had done.

I never understood that. I always thought Kira was a hero for what she did. But few think the same. I was happy that she was leaving, but also... saddened. I think I hoped she would come back, so that the two of us could still be friends.

But all that was so long ago, and now she is back... and now, Master Jedi, you know the story.

**(O)(O)(O)**

Hayram, the Jedi Knight, looked troubled to Enaq. He was staring into the small lamp the evocii had brought, as they sat in a corner in the slum, a heavy sadness in his face and eyes. "Thank you for telling me," he said after a long moment. "That can't have been easy."

Enaq nodded. "It still hurts. I think it always will."

"But why did you call her back?"  
Enaq sighed heavily. "Because a week ago, someone was taken and murdered. I panicked, because it is so similar to what happened before. I do not know if it is Matthias, or if it is someone knew. But we needed someone to fight for us, so I found a holonet terminal and sent Kira an email. I needed her help."

Hayram nodded, swallowing. "I... am sorry for all that you have to live through. This suffering... it's inexcusable."

Enaq shrugged. "It is not your fault, Master Jedi. I do hope you can bring her back, though."

The Jedi inclined his head. "I hope so too," he murmured miserably, before a measure of resolve settled in his features and he stood. "I'm going to find her."  
Enaq smiled. "Thank you, Jedi. I think she needs help, even if she is still wearing layers to look stronger than she is."

Hayram understood, he knew, and nodded again before turning, disappearing into the darkness of Nar Shaddaa, his astromech trailing behind him.

And Enaq was left alone, setting his gaze on the lamp again, as though it was a single, glorious star...

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: As a reminder, author's notes are now on my profile page. Also, I corrected a slight error in the last chapter. Enjoy.**


	32. Pull- Hayram Antilles

**Pull- Hayram Antilles**

The pieces were clicking together in his mind.

Hayram didn't know how he found her. It was just a feeling, of searching for her star in the galaxy of the universe and seeing it much less bright. Somehow he could know hers among the trillion others. He scuffled through the Nar Shaddaa streets, winding his way to where he knew she would go, giving her time to run away, because she surely knew that he would follow. It was becoming a habit of his.

The junkyard was certainly the one Enaq had spoken of. It was a run down pit of sewage and piles of metallic machinery, discarded by careless citizens over the decades. The smell was awful, yet was somehow irrelevant to Hayram's nose. A solitary figure was silhouetted against a neon red light, an advertisement beaming through an alley between two structures.

Hayram felt the cold there. There was death in this place. Echoes.

"T7," he said to his droid as he reached the end of the sidewalk and would have to clamber into the junk pit to join her, "wait here. Let me... talk to her."

The little astromech gave a small whine but acknowledged, backing off to the side of the street, where it kept watch on the crowds of aliens passing by.

Hayram almost took a step down but stopped, considered, and retrieved his lightsaber from his belt, holding it loosely in his hand. He cautiously proceeded into the pit, stepping around twisted shards of metal and crossing smashed chassis of airspeeders to reach her.

Kira wasn't facing him, but a chunk of something that was at the top of a mild mound of rubbish. She knelt, running her hand along the duracrete, and only when he reached the bottom of the small hill did she regard him, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Hayram held up the hand holding the lightsaber and let the hilt fall from his grasp. It clanged against the junk as it tumbled away, and he let his arms fall to loosely hang at his sides.

Kira sniffed, then turned away again, back to her chunk of garbage.

"It was right here." Her voice... it was choked, fragile. It wasn't cold or aloof or distant or sarcastic or guarded. Just... cracked. Broken. "Right here," she whispered, and traced her fingers along a dark spot, blood stained into the duracrete so many years ago. Her star dimmed in the Force, and he could _feel_ in the core of himself the waves of anguish gripping her.

Hayram swallowed, unsure of what to say.

"It felt so... _perfect_," she added. "It was justice, in the purest, most simple sense of the word. He was going to get what was coming to him, and there was _nothing_ he could do to stop me." She half-turned so that he could see the sad little quirk of her mouth that wasn't a smile. "A serial killer against an enraged force-user. It wasn't fair at all." She sighed, let her neck hang tiredly.

He finally found the courage to speak, and when he did it was of the heart of the matter. It was his way. "Kira... where were you born?"

Her head lifted, but she still stared into the distance, away from him and the judgment of his eyes. "I thought you would've figured it out by now," she replied grimly.

He had. "I want to hear you say it."

And she did. "Korriban," she murmured, the name a shuddering, dark breeze through the junkyard. She half-turned again and Hayram was almost afraid to see the light in her eyes, for fear of a sheen of yellow in her beautiful blue irises. But there was nothing there but the shimmer of tears not yet shed.

Tentatively, he took a step forward, as though she were some skittish animal who might bolt if he frightened her. She watched him warily. "You were born a Sith," he stated quietly. It wasn't an accusation, just a fact.

She shivered, pulling her arms around her to protect against cold not of the air but of her heart. "Born and raised," she affirmed. "For the first nine years of my life."

Hayram took another step. "And you fled to Nar Shaddaa."

"Hopped a transport."

"Why?" She stared at him. "Why did you leave?"

She smiled sadly again, lips almost trembling. He had never seen her so... weak. "That's the best part, tough guy. The only people I've told thought I did it for... truth or goodness or because my little nine year-old self knew how bad Sith were. That's not the real story. I left because I was _afraid_."

Another step. He was closer, now, almost within reach of her standing atop the junk.

"I was afraid," she continued without prompting, "of what I saw there. Maybe of what I saw in myself. I did... awful things..." She looked away again.

He held up a gentle hand. "You don't have to explain anymore," he said quietly.

"I do," she whispered. "I've been... secretive. It's not fair. I just... didn't want you to..."

He caught on. "Judge you?" He shrugged. "I'm not sure it's fair for me to judge anyone, with my close calls."

She snorted a little at that. "We must be the worst Jedi in the Order."

"Maybe," he allowed, and reached the top of her hill. Then he was standing there, looking down at her, face illuminated by the red light of the advertisement outside the alley. She smiled slightly. "You did what you had to do."

"A little more than that," she shook her head. "I... was angry. He'd killed my friend. Traumatized the other. I... And I was a girl with Force training and Sith upbringing." Her mouth twisted as her words became filled with disgust. "I _destroyed_ him." She sank to her knees, gazing hard at the blood spot.

Hayram slowly lowered himself to sit beside her, just the two of them in the junkyard. "He was evil," he decided.

"That doesn't matter, Hayram," Kira corrected sternly. "I... you don't understand yet."

"I nearly lost it with Bengel Moor," he pointed out.

"But you _didn't_," she sighed. "I was taken over. The dark side had me. Completely. Without anything to hold it back. I... I was Sith." She blinked at the admission. "I was Sith..."

A sudden flash of inspiration took hold and he reached for her hand, removing it from the duracrete. "And now," he said seriously, looking her straight in the eye, "you are Jedi."

Her lip trembled. "You... trust me?"

"I trust you."

"Even now that you know?"

"Yes."

"_Why_?" Why, she was asking, did he trust her when she didn't trust herself?

He found that the answer came easily. "Because you turned away. I know you. I don't know how, but I just... do."

Her star brightened, then flared, and she lurched toward him, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in. The embrace was fast and panicked, like she was afraid that he would slip away if she didn't hold tight enough and he reciprocated, putting his arms around her back to hold her close.

The junkyard was hardly the cliched spot for it, but the intimacy was unmistakable. She shuddered, not quite crying, letting out ragged breaths, and he steadied her, much as she steadied him in his times of need.

They were quiet for a long time, just feeling one another. Hayram didn't quite grasp the feeling that was pounding in his chest. It felt vaguely familiar to the stirrings he attributed to the memory of his parents, but it was... different.

_The worst Jedi,_ he mused_, and emotionally stunted._

"What if he's back?" she asked after a while. "I... got Enaq's message and I... panicked. When we came here I was anxious to see him, to ask about what happened. What if that monster is back and I... and I...?"

His response was immediate; he pulled back and faced her fully. "If Matthias is back," he said firmly, "then we'll stop him together. You're not alone. Not anymore."

She smiled fully, eyes wide and shining with relief, and Hayram felt an odd desire to come closer. Her face was angelic, then, brimming with affection. His chest thrummed pleasantly, and he knew that she was more beautiful than anything he could remember at the moment, because his brain had stopped working.

She didn't move either, locked in his stare like she was entranced. Neither of them blinked. Neither of them breathed.

_What is this?_ They seemed to think together.

Kira swallowed and pulled away. "I... okay..." she trailed off, unsure of something.

Hayram somehow knew what it was and silently concurred to not speak of it. "We should... get going," he muttered, standing and offering her a hand. She took it and rose with him, and it felt entirely natural when their hands remained clasped around one another as they stepped down from the hill.

"Who else knows?" he questioned, once they were away from the infernal junkyard and her ghosts, T7 rolling behind them.

She shrugged as they walked through a quiet street, following him and trusting him not to lead her astray. "Master Kiwiiks suspects," she sighed. "About the upbringing. She knows about Matthias because of a nightmare I had. A few others. Jedi Masters she talked to. No one really knows for sure about Korriban." She glanced at him. "Except you."

He nodded, meeting her eyes to let her know that her secret was safe with him. "I won't say anything before you," he promised, and she smiled in gratitude.

"Listen," she started, "I know you have more questions. About... the night on Taris."

He raised a brow. "You do?"

"Maybe I know you pretty well, too," she replied. "I'll tell you more after... after this is done. On the ship."

Hayram frowned. "You don't _have_ to explain-"

"I do," she cut him off shortly. "We're partners. Partners don't keep secrets like that. Okay?" He tried to protest again but her glare silenced him.

"Okay," he relented.

"Good."

"Then now we just need to find him before he hurts anyone else."

Her presence darkened. "Yeah. I think I can track him. You don't... do that to someone and forget what they feel like."

"I don't suppose you do," he agreed. "Kira?"

"Hmm?"

He squeezed her hand gently. "Thank you."

She looked puzzled. "Shouldn't I be thanking you?"

He shook his head. "No. Thank you for stopping me on Taris." This was crucial, because he realized that he was more indebted to her than to anyone thus far. She had kept him from falling too far, and to think of what he might have done if she hadn't been there...

"Anytime," she said quietly. "I'll be there if you need me." She squeezed his hand in return.

And Hayram smiled.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: Author's notes are on profile page. If you liked it, please review!**


	33. Trust- Kira Carsen

**Trust- Kira Carsen**

She could feel him. It was like he was a stain on Nar Shadda, but Kira was wiser than that; she knew the stain was on her alone. It made her feel... tainted.

Agent Galen, having been called by Hayram, sat across from her. They had gathered on their ship, sitting in the small conference room to discuss plans. Hayram and Galen were in the midst of a discussion about bribing a Hutt Cartel official, while she sat there and tried to find Ceran Matthias in the middle of a trillion souls.

Kira let out a breath, steadying herself as she peered through the Force, flicking through people and their presences. The effort was draining, to say the least, and it was only a minute later that she shook her head in defeat. "This isn't working," she said quietly.

The two men stopped in their discussion, and Hayram placed a hand on her shoulder from the side. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," she said shortly before throwing him an apologetic glance. "It's just... impossible. I know what he feels like, but unless I happen across him..." She sighed. "This is even if he's still alive."

"Who else would be tormenting the evocii?" Hayram asked.

"I don't know," she muttered.

Galen frowned. "Bring me up to speed again. We're chasing some... serial killer?" He looked confused. "No offense, but aren't there bigger things to worry about?"

Hayram shook his head. "Not really. I have a bad feeling about this. When we came back aboard, I asked our resident doctor a few questions about his little Project."

On cue, Godera strode into the briefing room, his cane clacking loudly on the deck. He gave Hayram a glare for good measure and inclined his head at the Agent. "Demanded, more like," he sniffed. "Then had the gall to be angry at my answers."

Kira raised a brow. "You didn't share any of this with me," she stated.

"I was going to. You were concentrating," he shrugged. "And it was just a hunch. Still is, to be fair, but I don't see any other way this can be happening."

"Still a little in the dark," Galen called.

"This boy asked me what kind of person can be turned into a Power Guard. I told him the truth: anyone," Godera interjected.

A brief silence filled the briefing room, and Kira understood Hayram's idea. She might have even been impressed with his intuition had it not been for the other pressing matters at hand.

He looked at her gravely. "Kira... are you sure that Matthias was-"

"I'm sure," she whispered, swallowed, images of blood flashing through her mind's eye. _There was no way he could have survived what I did to him... I _felt_ him die..._

"Let me get this straight," Galen sighed irritably. "This... Matthias? He was dead? And you think he's back, because..."

"Because the Empire needs subjects for its Power Guards," Godera finished. "Dead is irrelevant. It's still a body."

His words made Kira's skin crawl, but it was the next part that sparked a fire in her chest. "That doesn't make sense," she said slowly, eying Godera warily. "Matthias was killed seven years ago. The Empire just took the Project in the last few months." When Godera did not deny anything nor avert her gaze, she felt a heaviness sink in her stomach and her fists clenched. "That means..."

The Doctor scowled challengingly at her. "There were many bodies we recovered for tests in the formative years. I have eidetic memory, girl, and I remember every single one of them. When your Jedi friend here came up with his connection to the _minor_ murder case you are _wasting time on_, I knew who he was talking about."

The world hazed slightly red in Kira's eyes. "You..." she managed, teeth gritting.

Godera went on, oblivious. "Tall. Pale. Black hair, what was left of it. He'd been smashed to a pulp, impaled several times with a blunt object, the skull bashed to pieces. His left eye had been torn out. He was missing a right hand, likely from some sort of tearing trauma, the kind of thing one sees with factory accidents... or a Jedi using the Force to rip an opponent _limb from limb_."

And Kira's anger drained, along with the color in her face. For a terrifying moment, she looked back at Hayram...

But he wasn't repulsed or watching her with disgust. Only sadness. Only understanding. She breathed again. _Force... I'm so sorry..._

"Doctor," Hayram warned. "That's enough."

"We took his body for our experiments. It seemed like no one would miss him," Godera shrugged.

"This can't be real," Galen said in disbelief. "You can't _bring a person_ back to _life_."

"With science, anything is possible," Godera contended. "Though he wouldn't quite be back to life, so to speak. More of an empty shell housing cybernetic parts and a droid brain, most likely."

That wasn't quite right. Kira didn't know how she knew it, but she did. "He wouldn't be back in his old hunting grounds if he was just a machine," she muttered.

"Hunting grounds?" Godera wondered.

"An evocii camp in the slums," Hayram provided.

The Doctor put a hand to his chin, thinking. "This is all a very large coincidence, boy. I hope you know that."

"I asked you for your help," the Jedi stated flatly, "not your opinions."

"Oh _very well._ If this Matthias is _indeed_ the same person you are seeking and _happens_ to be a Power Guard, it would serve both purposes to lay a trap for him."

"A trap?"

"Wait in the camp. Hide until nightfall. Let him take an evocii, and follow him. Of course, you'll be disappointed when you realize you were utterly wrong, but-"

"That's monstrous!" Kira barked, on her feet in an instant. "We're supposed to _protect_ people, not use them!"

"They're _evocii laborers_!" Godera snapped back. "Get some perspective, girl!"

"She's right, Godera," Hayram challenged, at Kira's side. "People aren't things for you to use."

"Everyone is a _thing_," the Doctor growled. "If you aren't intelligent enough to use them, I will, and _I'll_ win the way like I've always done."

The pair of Jedi and Doctor stared hard at one another and Galen stood between them, hands held out in peacemaking. "Everyone, just... stop," he urged. "Stop. Now. We're at each other's throats, and that's exactly what the Sith want. Stop."

Godera opened his mouth.

Galen pointed a sharp finger at him. "Doctor. If you'd be so kind as to look through your notes or... whatever and see what useful information you can find on the Power Guards, we would be most appreciative."

Godera huffed, but turned to hobble away, muttering, "Don't need _notes_... Eidetic memory, I _told them that..._"

The Jedi sighed, shoulders slumping, and Galen regarded them warily. "For the record, you two are the worst Jedi I've ever met."

Kira looked to Hayram, and sighed again. "We noticed," she agreed.

"But I don't care as long as the job gets done, and these kinds of ops do things to people," the Agent relented. "Look. Antilles, I hope you're right about this Matthias being a Power Guard. If not, we've just wasted a good chunk of time."

"I am right," Hayram insisted.

"But how do you know?"

"There is no such thing as coincidence, Agent," he said. "This is happening for a reason. The Force is guiding us here."  
Galen looked skeptical, but inclined his head. "Well, whatever you say. I'm with you regardless. I just hope we find him soon." He turned and strode out of the briefing office.

Kira watched him go. "He's a good man," she decided.

"That he is," Hayram agreed tiredly.

"Do you really believe that?" she blurted. "That... Matthias is a Power Guard? That I killed him and he's... back?"

Hayram nodded after a moment. "I do. It can't just be coincidence. I _can't_ be."

She rubbed her temple. "I guess the Force hates me."

"It picks and chooses," he joked dryly. "Kira... I think I can help you find him."  
She crossed her arms. "How do you mean? You don't know what he feels like?"

He smiled slightly. "But I can feel everyone. Maybe if you... acted as a legend, so to speak, for my... mental map of the... people..." He trailed off. "That made no sense."

"Not really. You think I can show you what he feels like?"

"Yeah. I've been... trying to block it all out since we landed," he said grimly, and she felt a pang of sympathy. "Lots of stuff happening on Nar Shaddaa... Lots of pain... But I think I can open up for a little while."  
She didn't see any other way. "Well, I guess it's a good a shot as any, tough guy. What do you want me to do?"

Now he looked nervous, and his fingers twisted edgily with themselves. "Well... I'd need you to open yourself to me. Your mind... I need to see inside it. Find... him."

_Oh_. "Uh..." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Hmm. Um. I dunno about that..."

He winced, taking a step back. "Sorry, I just-"

"It's not you," she said hurriedly. "I've just never done that."

"Well... I wouldn't look anywhere I wasn't supposed to... just for Matthias... not that I wouldn't have to see some things, but that would be accidental and I wouldn't pay attention, and-"

Kira felt her worry evaporate like water on Tatooine soil. _Come on... It's Hayram. He's too overly-moral to do anything. Besides... he's already seen the worst of you._ "It's fine," she relented, stopping his ramble. "It's okay. I trust you."

_I trust you._ The words seemed natural. _Yeah. I really do._

He was touched. "... Thank you, Kira," he smiled. "I'll... go quickly."

"You don't have to do that," she said. "Just be careful." She sat down on a chair, Hayram taking the one opposite her, and closed her eyes, taking a breath and willing herself to relax. She eased down the mental shields in place and within second felt a tendril of consciousness brush against her own. Hayram was instantly identifiable, a bold, open presence that stepped into her mind with something approaching reverence and caution. It was, she understood, the way he would approach anyone's mind, anyone's inner sanctum that should never be violated.

She felt slight tweaks here and there as he searched for Matthias, and she summoned images of the man and his vile face. Hayram latched onto them, digger deeper and reaching for her feelings of the man, her memories. While... bonded like this, his emotions seemed to pulse in tune with hers. She felt the sudden spike of surprise when he stumbled upon the memories of that night, when she had killed the murdered, but he didn't turn away or feel anything approaching disapproval.

Curiosity piqued, and Kira was never one to turn it away. She sent out a tendril of her own, and found Hayram's mind entirely unblocked, open for access... like he had known she would check.

The implication of trust was not missed, and she smiled.

It was over a second later, and he retreated gently from her mind and she immediately refocused her shields, by habit more than anything else. Kira opened her eyes and saw Hayram's were still closed, eyes flicking about beneath the lids. Still somewhat connected (or maybe they were just in tune with one another, Kira wasn't sure at this point), she sensed his surge of anxiety.

"Hey," she whispered, putting a hand on his. "Let me help."

"... Door's open," he muttered as he concentrated.

_Still?_ Kira reached out and again found his mind open to her, and delved in, a quick, light presence that found Hayram's center and touched it-

_Oh, Force... Is this what he feels all the time?_

Kira didn't _see_ it, exactly, but _felt_ it in her mind and soul. A galaxy, more visible than anything her eyes could detect, with stars so bright it was nearly blinding. Each sending waves of energy, light, pulsing through the dark like little lightsabers bravely standing tall. The galaxy spun gracefully and she looked beyond to see _other_ galaxies... dozens of them... stars blotting out suddenly in each one, and she found that when she focused on a dying star she felt a sudden... _void_... like part of her had been taken with it-

She gasped, and withdrew quickly, leaning back against her chair and clutching at her chest. The hole was almost physical, but was filling, fading away like a half-forgotten nightmare.

Hayram opened his eyes slowly, sighed heavily. "Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean for you to feel anything like that."

"No, it's... okay... It was my fault..." She felt a fresh wave of sympathy for the man. "Hayram... is that was it's like?"

"Most of the time. Yeah."

"I'm so sorry," she said gently.

"It's not all bad," he said quickly, but she got the sense that his heart wasn't in it. "I try to ignore it most of the time, but the... stars, the people, aren't so bad when they aren't in pain or dying..."

He stood, cracked his neck. "I found him."

Her stomach churned. "You found Matthias... he's alive?"

"That's the odd thing," he murmured, staring at the wall in contemplation. "It's like he was... _half_ there... I don't know how to describe it."

"Can you tell where he is on the planet?" she wanted to know.

"Yes. And I can follow him now. I'm getting better at picking out individuals..."

She took a breath and summoned her willpower. "Then let's get going. I want to be done with this." She grabbed her lightsaber and attached it to her belt.

Hayram eyed the saber worriedly. "Kira... are you going to be okay?"

"I will be," she said, and left the room for the loading ramp.


	34. Trapped- Kira Carsen

**Trapped- Kira Carsen**

Kira stared out the cab window, watching the kaleidoscope of city lights swirl around and below her without really seeing.

They were getting closer. She was sure of it. And it looked like Hayram's guess had been right; they were headed for the Industrial Sector, where Galen had supposed Sadic was hiding the Project. Tall pipes rose around them spewing all manner of toxic chemicals into the air and fouling the planet, and the airspeeder traffic had reduced quickly.

Beside her, Hayram was tense but focused, ready, eager to catch the villain. She could feel his earnest desire to stop the man and get closer to their goal, but it wasn't something Kira could share.

Instead all she felt was dread. _What if I lose it again?_ She wondered. _What if something happens? I don't know what I'm going to do when I see him again..._

"It'll be alright," he said, as he took the taxi down for a short dive to land on an extended pad outside a large factory. "Kira?"

"Hmm?" She turned to him and met his concerned gaze. "Yeah... right. Fine. It'll be fine."

They exited the taxi and it took off on autopilot to return to the station. They were alone. "Beneath the factory," Hayram said grimly, starting to stride for the large structure ahead of them, all gray metal and foreboding smokestacks.

Kira swallowed. "I have a bad feeling about this..." But she followed.

It wasn't long before they found a grating that was large enough for them to fit through, and Hayram cut through the metal with his emerald lightsaber, ducking through the hole and proceeding into the dark. He kept his blade lit, and it was with some morbid humor that Kira remarked, "At least it smells nice..."

"Har har," he countered for banter's sake. It was something familiar and Kira latched onto it to try to steady herself as they moved into the dark.

For five minutes they crawled through the pipe, breathing smoke and fumes. Kira ignored most of it, her mind delving into a trance of concentration mingled with dread. "How much farther?" she questioned?

"You can't feel him?" he asked.

"I don't want to," she bit back quickly, truthfully. "Hayram... I don't know what I'll do. I have to be careful."

"Trust yourself."

"Not going to happen, buddy." She reached for his shoulder, made him half face her. "If I start to do something bad, stop me."

"That won't happen," he promised.

She shook her head at his naivete. "You can't know that."

"I know you."

"Ugh. There's no point in arguing with you."

"Absolutely correct."

She realized that he was trying to help her relax. "Well, I can be stubborn too," she tried to play along.

"I'm well aware," he countered, injecting his voice with a sly vibe, "but we both know who's the champion of bullheadedness."

She smiled slightly. "Thanks for coming with me," she said suddenly, in case she didn't get to say it later.

"You're awfully morbid," he observed. "Feels like we've switched places."

She frowned. "Guess so..."

"I want my spot back."

She felt the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Well you don't get it-"

_There_. A sudden surge of darkness in the Force. The Jedi stopped, feeling.

"Did you-?" Hayram asked.

"Yeah," Kira breathed. "Sadic?"

"I don't know. Something dark side." He held his lightsaber aloft a bit higher. "We have to go quickly." He led them to the end of the pipe, where it opened into an antechamber of the factory lower levels. The room was dimly lit and mostly quiet, the hum of large machines and pumps in the background. Hayram held his saber at guard, watching for something. "I'm having that feeling that this is more than coincidence again," he mused darkly. "Except now I know why."

Kira turned as a door swished open on a floor above them. The darkness intensified, coalesced into the dark shape that stepped through, flanked by armored men on either side.

"It was a trap," Hayram finished, and stepped in front of her as Kira's mind became bathed in fear. _Force, what's wrong with me?_

"Darth Sadic," he called to the man above. "You saved me the trouble of finding you."

"Bold words, young Jedi," the Sith Lord replied smoothly, his voice amplified and electronically altered by the demonic, machine-like mask he wore. Sadic was dressed in armored black robes, with clear cybernetic attachments on most of his body. At his sides large, bulky men carrying rifles waited, also heavily augmented. "But irrelevant. I couldn't have you snooping around my planet for too long. As you can see, I arranged all this for you. You should be flattered."

"Nice try," Hayram replied. "But I don't think so. I think you felt us coming and we've stumbled onto your base. Hence the trap here, and not in the pipes, where you could have placed mines or any other kind of killing device."  
Sadic peered down at them magnanimously, red eye slits glinting in the low light. "An interesting theory," he allowed. "Wrong, however. Let me present your target, young Jedi. I believe he was once called Matthias."

He gestured theatrically and on their floor another door across from them opened, allowing a solitary figure to step through.

Kira's heart stopped and she trembled, unlit lightsaber shaking in her hands.

_It's him..._

Matthias' face was only barely recognizable, heavily modified by cybernetics. The eye Kira had torn out was gone, replaced by a large targeting laser attachment. His right hand was now a deadly claw, and his body was covered in heavy armor, sporting a shoulder cannon and several blasters on a belt.

"Hayram," she whispered, taking a step back. The emotions mixed like a torrential hurricane within her. Fear. Outrage at his survival. Anger at him coming back, to kill again. Disappointment with herself, at feeling these things in the first place.

"Kira, stay with me," he urged. "How did you know, Sadic?"

"I will no longer speak with you," the Sith Lord dismissed. "Child of our Emperor, did you really think you had escaped him?"

Kira felt what strength remained in her give way, and she fell to her knees. "W-what did you call me?" she asked pathetically.

"He has always been watching," Sadic said gleefully, as Hayram turned to her, eyes wide. "He knew about your little... _relapse_, shall we call it. And he informed Darth Angral, who informed me. What wonderful luck that the brilliant Doctor Godera had happened across the body of the man you murdered, child."

She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. At the edge of her mind, that dark place she always avoided hummed, calling her. _No... nononononono... not him not him not him..._

"Does he scare you, child?" Sadic asked malevolently. "Why should he? He is a reminder of your power. You do not need to be afraid of the dark side, Kira Carsen. Only to embrace it."

Matthias stared at her, unfeeling, dead, only a shell of a man. She felt his half-presence, and it terrified her.

"Kira, _stay with me_," Hayram said through gritted teeth, as the monstrosity of her victim took a step towards them.

She couldn't. She was falling, buried beneath the memories bubbling to the surface. Matthias, the night she had killed him, the darkness she had felt... and the shadow in her mind grew, blackened, solidified into a coherent presence within herself, until a voice, dark and cold as death itself...

**Child. You cannot run from me forever.**

Kira screamed.


	35. Leap- Hayram Antilles

**Leap- Hayram Antilles**

The moment Kira screamed, Hayram's own fear spiked. He'd never heard a sound like that before. It was a cry of torment and anguish and terror, all at once, and the idea that Kira, _his_ Kira, strong, brave, confident Kira, could ever scream like that seemed _wrong_.

There was something darker than Sadic in the room, and as the Sith Lord watched them from his vantage point Hayram looked into the galaxy to find Kira's star and saw only a black hole.

_What?_

It was like she was gone, dimmed entirely and swallowed hole by a void in space.

Something in his chest surged. _No. Never._

Hayram gripped his saber with two hands. "SADIC!" he roared. "What have you done to her?"

"I did nothing, young Jedi," Sadic reported cruelly. "She ran away from her father, and is facing the consequences."

"Let her go," he demanded in vain, but while his mouth moved his mind was working.

"This exchange is inefficient," Sadic stated. "Matthias?" The Power Guard near the Jedi cocked his head robotically. "Kill him."

Hayram angled his lightsaber to guard, just in time to intercept the flurry of blaster bolts that speared through the air towards him. He flicked his blade and sent them toward Sadic, who dodged them easily, and came to several quick conclusions.

One: they were outmatched, and remaining here would result in death or capture.

Two: Kira needed help, _away_ from these people and this darkness.

Three: He was going to have to lose his lightsaber.

The tradeoff being more than acceptable in exchange for getting Kira to safety, Hayram shoved his hand out and tossed the Power Guard to his feet. While Matthias was distracted, he reached into the Force and found the nearby pipe filled with fuel.

Aimed. Threw. The lightsaber glowed a brilliant green for the last time, puncturing the gas pipe and igniting the fuel within. A flash of light-

Suddenly fire spewed from the pipe, a brilliant fan of flame that stretched across the upper level. Sadic's Power Guards caught fire, unmoving as they burned, unfeeling. Sadic vanished in a burst of dark power, and Hayram slid to a rest beside Kira, who was on the ground, eyes fluttering madly in their sockets.

"Kira?" he asked, but received no response. Matthias was standing, and with no lightsaber he was at an incredible disadvantage. Hayram scooped Kira into his arms and sprinted for the door the Power Guard had entered through, just as the man fired again, blaster bolts searing the walls around him.

Hayram ran, darting through doors and corridors with no true idea of where he was going. He wrapped himself in the Force, feeling the halls before he saw them and trusting his instincts to guide him to an exit. The Power Guard's heavy footsteps behind him thudded ominously as it pursued him. Desperate, Hayram sent a wave of Force energy at a locker, blocked the door behind him.

Matthias punched through it with sheer physical force and continued, unimpeded.

"Hold on, Kira," he prayed urgently. "Just hold on. We're getting out."

"MINE!" she suddenly burst out, voice dark and heavy and _not her own_, before she slumped again, unconscious.

Something welled within him and the door ahead of him punched itself open, allowing him through and out onto the large taxi pad they had arrived on. He skidded to a stop at the center of the pad, scanning the sky desperately for any sign of a patrolling vehicle but saw none. Across the way, the red light district of Nar Shaddaa lay invitingly, but a deep chasm separated them. A chasm that was likely a kilometer wide, and...

_Damn it._ He peered over the edge. _Too far to drop. I can't even see what's down there..._ They were so high that the chasm they were hanging over precariously was black, lacking light entirely. If they fell, it would be for miles.

Sounds behind him drove him to whirl, lying Kira down and scooping her lightsaber from her belt, igniting one end of the purple blade and preparing himself. Matthias was there, along with another contingent of Power Guards, all pointing blasters of various sizes and configurations at him. Hayram watched them readily as Kira stirred behind him. His heart thudded in his chest, sweat lining his brow. _Force, there are so many... Dozens..._

That heavy black void in the background of the Force darkened further, an impossible feat. His arms felt heavy, the lightsaber glow dulling as his thoughts slowly muddled. _Wha-... No... Sadic... Mind... no, protected... can't... Kira..._

The shadow that was Sadic was brushing through his troops toward his cornered prey, and Hayram bravely tried to raise the lightsaber again, but found his arms ignoring his commands. The hilt fell from his grasp and the blade shrank away. His knees gave out. When he hit the deck the sound echoed dully in his ears.

_Have to... resist... Can't..._

Sadic's black glove reached for his face, as the gleaming red eyes of his mask bored into his. Hayram felt his breath leave him and he suddenly _fell_...

**(O)(O)(O)**

"Hayram!"

"Kiddo! Come on, buddy! We need you!"

"Hayram! Please!"

"Jedi! Help us!"

"Oh, Gods, NOO!"

"Please, please, I don't- AAAGHHH!"

"Hayram! Antilles!"

"Knight Antilles. There are already millions dead-"

**You striving is insignificant.**

"Jedi. We are dying. Please help us."

_I'm trying._

"You failed, Jedi! My son is _dead_!"

"They killed her! They killed them all!"

**I am death, **_**boy**_**. You cannot hope to stand against me.**

"Hayram! Hayram!"

"Hayram!'

"Hayram!"

"Please don't leave me..."

"For the Republic, Master Jedi..."

"We are all going to _die_..."

"HAYRAM!"

He breathed again, a shuddering gasp that rattled his lungs as well as his mind. Yet the oxygen was... thin. It disappeared as soon as he sucked it in, like it was faked...

Hayram Antilles did not believe in miracles. He hoped quite a lot, and thought many things were impossible, but there were limits. Death, for instance. People didn't come back from death. It was an impossibility. A constant. An inevitability.

So when he opened his eyes and saw his mother and father standing before him, he knew it had to be a dream. Or a nightmare.

He was lying on a black ground, inky in darkness like an eternal night. There was a consistent void around him, an eternal nothingness save for the light ahead. His parents stood there, bathed in it. His mother's warm, brown eyes gleaming at him with her affectionate smile, round face creased happily in a wide grin. His father, lips pressed thin as he gazed down at his son with unconditional love, cheeks trembling with joy.

"Hayram," his mother said, and his name was whispered from the dark all around him. His head whirled, but he saw nothing, and was soon wrapped in his mother's gaze again. "We've missed you so much."

"... Mother?" he dared to breathe.

"It's us, Hayram," she affirmed, still beaming at him. She held out an elegant hand. "Come. Join us." The light behind her beckoned, shining defiantly against the void around them.

He groaned, holding his head in his head as his heart thudded against his chest... or was it his heart and body at all? Still, he felt tears welling in his eyes. "I... how are you...?"

"Hayram, come on now," his father said, holding out his hand as well. "Please, son. We need you."

"I... what..." Hayram managed to get to one knee, staring up at them. "You... di-"

"Why didn't you save us?" his mother finally squeaked, smile replaced by an expression of horror. Disappointment. Her eyes jabbed daggers at him. "We were dying, and you didn't save us..."

His mouth opened, an icy fist clenching his heart. "I..." he choked, struggling to breathe. A tear escaped his eyes, fell to the black ground.

"We were your _parents_, son," his father accused quietly. "You had _power_, something special_,_ and you still couldn't_ help_."

"I tried..." he said softly, sadly, and gasped.

His mother's face started to peel, the skin stripping away in layers. His father's too.

"You didn't save us," she said again. "You let us die."

"I didn't," he _begged_. "Please... no..."

The skin fell away, dissipating into nothing, leaving her bloodied face and eyes baring down at him. "You failed us-"

"No!" he cried, and clenched his eyes shut, gripping his head with his hands. "No no no no _No_!"

All was silent in his world of darkness.

_Not real_, he insisted to himself, as he shuddered and wrapped his arms around his body, weak and afraid. _Not real. Has to be... a trick. It's a trick. I... fell here... protecting... someone..._ The name eluded him, the face a fuzzy blur of color. He gritted his teeth, smearing away his tears. _Protecting..._

Suddenly she was there in his mind. Pale skin. Blue eyes. Red hair. Kira. His friend. His... Kira.

He followed the image of her, recovered other truths. He was protecting Kira from... people. A dark lord. Power Guards. Nar Shaddaa. Agent Galen. T7-01. Jedi. Sith. Galaxy.

And then, suddenly, _power_ flowed...

_The galaxy!_

Hayram got to his feet, fists clenched looking around at the void. The light and the ghosts were gone, leaving him alone, but... if this was a trick... and it had to be... then there was a way out.

He remembered the black hole, the void that had sucked in Kira's star...

A fresh wave of fear swept over him. _She's here_, he realized. _In the black hole..._

"Who are you?" he said to the void. It growled in response, a blaring hum that came from nowhere and everywhere.

"You can't stop me. I remember now."

**You are an insect. I am infinite. You are nothing before me.**

"Let Kira go. Now."

**She is mine. We are one. You will never reach her.**

Hayram felt the truth behind the words. Whatever this entity was, it was more powerful than him and infinitely more evil than anything he had ever seen before. Even a Jedi would falter before it.

He set his jaw and gathered what resolve he could. "We'll see," he promised, and closed his eyes and opened himself to the galaxy...

It was delayed. Usually, when he reached out to feel everyone, the sensation was instant and overwhelming. An incredible intake of feelings and thoughts and pain and light and every emotion possible.

But it came, slowly... A trickle of something not his. A small sense of joy... something material... and the void cracked. A thin fracture formed above him, light burning through.

Then more. More light poured through the crack, more feeling. A flash of agony, as someone was stabbed with a vibroshiv...

Relief, as a nemoidian returned home from work...

A sense of pride, when an evocii brought home an entire flatcake for his young son...

Passion, as two twi'leks mated behind a theater, in an alley...

Annoyance, when a human cut off a rodian in an airspeeder...

Love, when a baby girl reached for her father...

The light was blinding, the void evaporating under the sun of the galaxy, and Hayram felt himself lifting, drifting away into nothing again...

**(O)(O)(O)**

He screamed, and blasted out with the Force as Sadic's glove touched his face-

The Sith Lord flew back, unprepared for the assault, and his Power Guards fell to the ground, stunned. Hayram gasped, gulping down air as he blinked, reorienting his vision and snatching Kira's lightsaber to attach it to his belt. He looked down at the woman, still twitching, still trapped, and new that to save her first he had to get them out of here.

Here... on the edge of a taxi platform, suspended above an infinite drop...

But as Sadic rose and the promise of torture and death glinted in his eyes, Hayram snarled. _Not a chance. Escape. Now._

It wasn't a choice. It simply _was_.

He took Kira into his arms, knelt, gathered the Force and the air shimmered...

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" Sadic called.

Hayram smiled thinly. "I'll be back for you," he promised, and leapt. The ground buckled beneath the strain, the deck of the platform denting severely, and he was gone. The air rushed past his face, the world a blur of motion as he crossed the sky-

It was over in an instant, and somehow his feet found the ground of a skyscraper, nearly a kilometer away. The impact buckled his knees and he rolled, dropping Kira, and they skidded to a stop against the low wall of the roof, dirtied and bruised but alive.

Hayam rolled onto his back, the smog-blocked sky of Nar Shaddaa looking back at him, and wondered at how he was alive.

Distantly, he saw the factory across the chasm, the tiny figures of Sadic and his guards rushing around, and thought, _I did that?_

_… Huh..._


	36. Flee- Kira Carsen

**Flee- Kira Carsen**

"Aw, come on, now, tall, blur. Have a drink!"

"I don't want anything."

"Why not? You ain't got nothin' to lose anymore, junior."

Kira heard something on the edge of her consciousness. It sounded like... talking. But... different. Transmitted. A holo?

"They were supposed to protect us, Gryph! Protect us, their students! Not murder us in cold blood!"

"Hmph. Well, maybe your masters are some of those... eh... Bith."

"Sith?"

"Whatever. The chumps who ruined all the good hyperspace routes a few years back."

Slowly, she opened her eyes, the darkness behind her lids giving way to light. _Oh, Force..._

She felt blankets, that she was lying on something relatively soft. She had been right about the holo idea; a screen was transmitting some program, showcasing two characters, a tall, thin human padawan and a small snoovian, in a bar, somewhere.

"No, they're not Sith," the padawan mused, putting a hand to his chin. "They hate the Sith." Then his eyes widened, mouth opening.

The snoovian, Gryph, frowned. "What?"

"They hate the Sith!"

"So?"

"They're _Jedi_! They're not _allowed_ to hate."

And Kira felt a fresh wave of disappointment come over her, and she almost shrank back into the blanket.

"You're awake," a familiar voice said from her side, and she turned to see Hayram sitting on a chair beside her. He muted the holo off with a touch of the Force, and knelt beside her. "You okay?"

She took a breath to steady herself. "I... where are we? How did...-?"

"Whatever it was... it wore off once we made it away from Sadic," he explained, looking down at her sadly. "I had to get us out of there, so he got away."  
She nodded, putting a finger to her temple. "Agh... Force... head hurts..." It was like a steady pounding, a throb that pulsed in tune with her heart. She fixed her ally with a steely stare. "Hayram... it didn't just fade."

He frowned, shifted. "I... tried to go in and... stop him. It. Whatever it was."

"And?"

"And... it left when I approached. Just... fled. So I brought you here." He gestured around the ship's medical bay, which Kira now recognized. "Hoping that you'd get better."

She coughed weakly, sat up and waved aside his hand. "I'm fine. It's not physical. How long?"

"About five hours."

She sighed, rubbed the back of her neck. "Hayram, I'm... sorry."

Immediately his hand was on her shoulder. "You've got nothing to apologize for."

"I should have told you. I should have stayed behind, and I almost got you killed."

"There was no way you could've known what would happen," he insisted.

She couldn't help the bitter glare that sprang forth. "Would that make you feel any better?"

After a moment, he shook his head. "I guess not."

Silence filled the bay, and he took the opportunity to sit beside her. "So we lost Sadic," she said bluntly.

"We did. At least we know he is in the Industrial Sector, I suppose."

"Yeah."

T7 rolled into the bay and gave a squeak of delight at seeing Kira up again. It approached, beeping frantically and she patted its dome. "It's okay, little guy. I'm okay," she smiled slightly.

The holo was still playing, so she nodded toward it. "What is that?"

Hayram looked up, having been lost in thought. "Oh. A comedy/drama about a Padawan a few hundred years ago. During the Mandalorian Wars." He shrugged. "It's a good story."

She nodded again, having run out of things to say.

"Kira..." he began hesitantly, and she hated that he felt the need to be so. "That thing... that was the Emperor, wasn't it?"

The name almost made her shiver, and she shuddered despite her best efforts.

"Are you... really his daughter?"

She snorted derisively. "No. As far as I know, he doesn't have real children. But I was picked at birth to undergo a... bonding. I was taken to Dromund Kaas and... chained to him..." She closed her eyes, fighting off the bitter feelings welling in her chest. "I always feel him. When I ran away, it... got better, but never quite left. I think... when I felt all that fear, he could..."

"It's okay," he said quickly, placing his hand on hers. "I'll protect you," he promised seriously, looking straight at her.

His misguided chivalry was irritating right now, instead of endearing. "You can't," she snapped. "He's the _Emperor_."

"I broke free of his control once," the Jedi said firmly. "I can do it again."

Kira stopped, stared at him. "You what?"

"I... he tried to take over my mind, too, so I opened myself to the galaxy. The emotion, the raw life, overwhelmed him, I think." He looked distant, relaying the event. "I think its the antithesis to him. He must be... a void. Somehow."

"Best description I've heard," she muttered. "I can't believe you got out..."

He seemed confused, too. "Yeah... I dunno... Still seems too easy... maybe he let me go, though I don't know for what reason..." He trailed off, and they were quiet again.

Until Kira spoke up. "The Emperor is interested in us," she whispered. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this," she apologized miserably.

"It's okay," he assured her. "We'll be okay."

She didn't really believe him. "Not with me, you won't."

**(O)(O)(O)**

"Agent Galen?" Hayram asked, and Kira instantly got a bad feeling the moment there was no response. They had moved to the cockpit, and Hayram had tried to contact their Agent. "Agent Galen, respond."

"Where is he?" she asked nervously.

"He said he was going out to scout the sector," the Jedi Knight replied tightly. "I told him to be careful, but he was... determined." He shook his head. "Galen... please. Are you there?"

Nothing. Not even static. Just a void.

Hayram's fist clenched atop the console, the glove tightening audibly as he squeezed.

"They are going to pick us off one by one," he said quietly. "They got Galen, and they almost got you..."

She slumped into her copilot's chair, drained and pathetic. _He's right... Force... I don't know what we're going to do..._

This was her fault. She hadn't told Hayram everything, and now Matthias was still on the loose, Sadic was still active, the Power Guards were still being produced... and rather than share her secret, she had held it in until Sadic had used it against her, and forced them to retreat.

Guilt settled on her heart and she swallowed back the choking in her throat. _I've messed up bad, here..._

"I'm going to go talk to Godera," Hayram muttered. "See if there's a... countermeasure or something..." He walked out of the cockpit, leaving Kira alone.

The dark hub in her mind whispered in the distance, a black tongue of misery that prodded at her thoughts. "Get out," she snapped, and it shrank away, only to return slyly a second later. _What a failure you are, child..._ "I said get out..."

_I cannot, poor girl... I'm a part of you... The only part that will keep you..._ Kira's eyes burned. _You can't tell anyone without destroying those around you. It's what you do. You run, and when you stop, those around you suffer. It happened with the evocii, and it's happening with the Jedi and Hayram now._

The thought of Hayram falling suddenly flashed before her eyes, and panic gripped her. Kira stood and scrambled down the loading ramp, lowering it and fleeing into the docking bay. She wrapped her cloak around herself tighter, felt her lightsaber at her belt, and looked back at the ship.

_I have to go... The longer I wait, the more danger he's in. The mission, the Republic... Hayram..._

_I'm sorry, tough guy. Guess I wasn't cut out for the Jedi, either._

Kira ran into the Nar Shaddaa streets, just as Hayram bounded down the loading ramp.

"Kira!" he shouted, unable to see her. He reached out into the Force, looking for her star. She had to be there, _had_ to be...

But there was nothing. She had gone, vanished from sight in more ways than one, and the sinking feeling in his chest made him clutch the wall for balance. "No... Kira..."

_Gone... Can't be... We're a team..._

The communicator at his belt thrummed and he clicked it on. "Kira?"

_"Sorry, Jedi, this is Agent Galen. I've got a lead, but you have to get down her quickly. We don't have much time."_

The dark pit in his stomach deepened. "Time for what?" he scowled.

_"Jedi... They're going to release the Power Guards soon. Transmitting location coordinates. Get here fast."_ The comm clicked off.

Hayram stared into the distance of the elevators, hoping that she would reappear in one of them...

But there was nothing. "Be safe, Kira," he whispered.


	37. Abduction- Agent Galen

**Abduction- Agent Galen**

The Jedi was... deflated. He'd shown up with his astromech, no sign of his Padawan-or-whatever-she-was, looking grim and dull-faced. He also, Galen noticed, carried no lightsaber.

Altogether, he had a _very _bad feeling about this, but he would do his duty, as he always had.

"Agent," Antilles greeted neutrally. The droid beeped in agreement.

"Knight Antilles," Galen nodded. They had met on an overpass that stretched over a wide chasm; beyond that lay a large manufacturing plant, brights lights shining from within the gray building. The clacking and humming of large machines could be heard, even from their distance. "Sorry about the delay in responding to your transmission. I'll make this quick. While you and Carsen were investigating the Matthias lead, I followed up on a power fluctuation I detected while hacking the local networks. This plant, here," he pointed, "is drawing power away from the rest of the sector."  
"And?"

"And so I sent a mouse droid in." Galen held up a small remote, screen indented into the device. "See for yourself." He thrust the device at the Jedi, who took it and peered at the screen.

After a moment Antilles' face darkened further. "Power Guards," he identified.

"A lot of them," Galen affirmed, looking at the screen as well. The droid, at Antilles' pressing, moved about a large factory floor, where lines upon lines of Power Guards were arrayed in formation, like droids being processed and completed. Their faces were blank as large devices were inserted into them via floating medical droids, guns pressed into their hands, wiring inserted into their skulls. The gore was disquieting, but Antilles and Galen stared ahead, undaunted.

"We need to get in there," Antilles said after a moment.

"I was thinking the same thing," Galen agreed. "If you and Carsen found Sadic at the factory on the other side of the sector a few hours ago, he might still be there, and that must be his control center, not the manufacturing plant." He took back the remote from the Jedi. "If we can get inside, we might be able to overload the reactor and end this thing before it begins."

"Begins? What do you think he's planning?"

Galen shrugged. "I don't know. Something bad."

The astromech _twooed_ lowly. "You said it, buddy," Antilles muttered. "Alright, Agent. We go in. Is there a way?"

"I've already got that figured out," the Agent said, and reached down into the sack he'd brought with him. "Pilfered it from the SIS base before Rieekan could say no."

Antilles looked at the gun held before him. "A line launcher?"

"We do this the old fashioned way," Galen nodded. "That window is on a third floor, above the manufacturing deck." He made sure to point out which he was speaking of. "We can enter there, then proceed to the reactor core for the plant. It has to have a central hub where it's drawing power."

Antilles squinted. "Looks like the window is closed. And barred."

Galen shifted. "Well... I was hoping you might help with that."

**(O)(O)(O)**

The Jedi left his astromech for instructions to monitor their comms, then fired the line launcher, sped across the chasm, and barreled into the window, a burst of Force power blowing the barricade to pieces before landing neatly inside.

Galen wasn't nearly as graceful; he followed the Jedi through, tumbled into the opening and landed on his knees, but managed to keep his blaster pistol ready. Antilles held both hands out, fingers flexed, ready to unleash whatever considerable telekinetic power he had.

Still, Galen wished he had a lightsaber. "What happened to your weapon?" he whispered, as they took positions on either side of a corridor, peering down the hall cautiously.

"Had to give it up to get away," Antilles responded tightly. "It, uh... blew up."

Galen raised a brow. "That happen often?"

"...No."

"Good." He reached into his belt and tossed a second, smaller hold out to the Jedi. "Try not to lose that one." He winked.

Antilles didn't return the favor. "Thanks," he intoned, fingers gripping the blaster tightly as he stood and proceeded down the corridor.

_Well_, Galen thought, _at least he's being focused like a Jedi, now..._, and followed.

It wasn't long before they came to a railed walkway that overlooked the floor, and the pair of Republic insurgents poked their heads over the edge of the sides of the catwalk. The Power Guards were still being created, but the manufacturing plant was large... huge, even...

"There must be hundreds," Galen murmured.

"There are five hundred and sixty-three," Antilles counted. "I... feel them all. Somewhat. It's like they're... alive, but not."  
"Not surprised," Galen said, looking down at the abominations.

Each Power Guard was a messy combination of organic and synthetic. A variety of species, human and twi'lek and rodian and mon calamari and even a _wookie_ were all strapped to heavy armor as appendages or even entire limbs were gradually sawed off and replaced with droid parts, used for fighting or holding large weapons. Their heads were cut into by droids with small buzzsaws, them wired into small computers that flashed as data was downloaded into their brains. The organics stood there silently, taking the pain, their eyes emotionless and dead.

"Force... the armor is _welded_ onto the skin," Antilles sighed.

"This is monstrous," Galen declared. "... Var Suthra approved this?"

"Yes," Antilles answered. "Doctor Godera created them. As far as I'm concerned they're both to blame." He moved away from the catwalk, proceeding down the next corridor and deeper into the plant.

Galen caught up with him. "I thought we were better than this," he shook his head. "We're not the Empire. We're not supposed to do things like... enslave people for soldiers..."

"I thought so too," Antilles muttered. "But the more I'm out in the galaxy, and not on Tython, the more I realize how gray things really are."

Galen frowned. "Not a very Jedi thing to say."

Antilles half-turned. "I think you've figured out I'm not the best the Order has to offer."

The Agent snorted. "Was just a comment. I'm... curious."

The Jedi grunted, but did not respond, and Galen knew _that_ discussion was over.

"Droid!" Antilles snapped suddenly, and rolled when a green bolt speared the air where he had been. Galen took aim down the hall in the same moment and fired, placing his own red laser in the head of the machine; it clattered loudly to the deck.

"_Kriff_," he cursed.

"We need to move," Antilles said shortly, and stepped over the body, Galen at his rear. "We're fine, T7, just stay on the channel," he added, placing a finger to his earpiece.

"Can that droid send out a message?" Galen asked. When the Jedi nodded he finished, "Tell it to contact Captain Rieekan. We have the Project here, and faster than expected. We need backup."

Antilles relayed the message, then stopped short a second later. "... Agent... there's no contact with the SIS base."

Galen felt the blood drain from his face. "No..." _It was me... I led them there when I retrieved the line launcher..._

"Get it together," Antilles ordered quietly.

"I... they can't be gone," Galen tried to explain. "It was hidden. There would have been defenders. Tell the droid to try again."

"It's no use until we find the reactor," Antilles said, moving forward.

"No use?" Galen choked. "I... maybe they got out..."

And when the Jedi cocked his head, eyes closing, Galen knew that he would hate the answer.

"I... cannot feel them, Agent," Antilles said softly, apologetically. "I'm sorry..."

Anger clenched Galen's heart. "All those men and women... Sadic will pay for this."

For once, Galen was _glad_ that the Jedi was not the usual. "Yes he will," he promised. "Now come."

**(O)(O)(O)**

If things were bad, they were only getting worse.

The reactor was lightly guarded; Sadic must have thought his base secure, because the pair of Imperial troopers there were quickly taken down by Galen and Antilles. The room itself was small, housing the control console and a dozen screens that showcased the various cameras lining the manufacturing plant. Behind a wall of glass was the antimatter injector that allowed the reactor to function.

Antilles took up a guard position, blaster at the ready, while Galen attacked the computer, hands dancing frantically over the controls. "It's a miracle they didn't see us coming," he blurted.

The Jedi didn't answer, but looked worried. Galen hated that.

"Alright, I have control. It wasn't encrypted. I can start a reactor meltdown that will start a few large explosions, some fires. Collateral damage will be minimal, but there's always a chance for civilian casualties..." He trailed off, glanced at his ally.

Antilles looked grim, but nodded. "We don't have a choice. Do it."

"Alright. I'll set a countdown, and hopefully we can use the line launcher to-" He stopped, spotted the files for plans and designs. "Hold on..." He accessed the file.

"Quickly, Agent," Antilles pressured, but as Galen read timing became all he could think about.

"Force, Jedi," he breathed. "He's... going to build more... and invade the Promenade..."

"What?!" Antilles moved to the console, looking at the files once Galen stepped aside. They were all there; plans of attack, maps of the area, even a transmission in text form from Darth Angral to Sadic.

_Sadic-_

_Begin Phase Three immediately. Once you control the Hutts, you will have the moon. Continue to harvest the civilian population for Power Guard creation. Ensure that production remains on schedule, and that the invasion of Tython will go as planned. Do not fail me, my apprentice._

"He's going to use Nar Shaddaa as fuel," Antilles whispered. "Build an _army_..."

"Right, meltdown. We're stopping this." Galen moved to brush Antilles aside, but the Jedi wouldn't budge. "Jedi?"

Antilles suddenly _whirled_, hand splayed, and a burst of blaster fire seared the wall instead of their heads. A Power Guard had entered the room, heavy blaster rifle aimed, eyes staring numbly at them.

And behind him... were dozens more.

A crackle of loudspeakers buzzed overhead, and from one of them came a slimy, gleeful voice. _"My, my, rats in my palace. I would've thought you more intelligent than to come back for more, Hayram Antilles."_

"Sadic," the Jedi snarled.

_"I will confess, I am glad to have you here. You'll make an excellent Guard for my collection."_

Galen swallowed, the Guards filtering into the room. There was no way out, no trick to save them. _… Force, help us..._

"I won't be a slave for you, Sadic," Antilles boldly declared.

_"Why my dear delirious Jedi Knight, you have no choice in the matter at all."_ And the Power Guard in front flicked a setting on his rifle and blue bolts spewed from its tip. Antilles bravely tried to dodge them, but the stream was too focused, and there was no room to move. Several struck him and he crumpled to the deck, unmoving.

Galen felt fear paralyze him, and in a panic he placed his own blaster to his head, finger on the trigger. _I... do it now... b-before they..._

He hesitated, and the Guard turned on him, fired.

A flash of blue, and Galen sank away into darkness.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: Reminder, author's notes and tidbits of info are on my profile page.**


	38. Piece- Agent Galen

**Piece- Agent Galen**

He heard voices, but saw nothing.

"SADIC! SADIC! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

"My, my, Jedi. So eager to be the first transformed? No, I think the pain will be... _more_, this way, with him first."

"I said LEAVE HIM ALONE! DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

Galen couldn't see. Somehow his sight had been taken away, but whether that was because he didn't have eyes or due to some drug was unclear.

The fear, in his darkness, when shattering, and he shuddered where he lay, strapped to an operating table. "... You'll... g-get nothing from me... _Sith_," he managed, barely.

A dark presence that Galen _felt_, not with his senses but with his _soul_, was beside him. He heard Sadic's breath mask hissing lowly in his ear. "I think you will give me everything I desire, Agent Galen," the Dark Lord mused lightly. "You are now mine."

"SADIC!" he heard Antilles scream valiantly, accompanied by struggling against some sort of shackles. It sounded like the Jedi was strapped to an operating table, too. Galen's heart sank; they were surely doomed, now. "I'LL KILL YOU."

"You are _such_ an interesting Jedi specimen, do you know that?" Sadic murmured lazily, moving away from Galen. "So much _anger_. I can feel it _steaming_ off you. I can't wait to pry open that skull of yours..."

"Galen!" Antilles cried desperately, and Galen shook, tilting his ear in his direction. "Galen! Don't give in! I'll... get us out of here. I just need more time."

Even though he wanted so sincerely to hope, to _believe _the Jedi, Galen found that he couldn't.

Hope was gone. All that was left was the cold darkness that Sadic reigned in.

"Droid," the Dark Lord said grimly, "begin the procedure. Remove his arm, first."

Galen felt a fresh wave of terror grip him, try to steel his mind behind whatever he could throw up. _Force... my arm... please... no... the Republic... stay strong... can't betray... anything..._

His resolve lasted until he felt the sharp spike stab into his skull, and he cried out, limbs jerking reflexively as the probe went deep into his brain.

His scream echoed within his own ears, and suddenly he saw images...

Galen's birthday, his family surrounding him...

His favorite food... flatcakes with muja syrup...

The kiss of his first love... a woman named Selene...

Suddenly the images were ripped away, leaving a gaping void that burned and chilled at the same time, and Galen cried again.

"Galen!" Antilles sounded from across a great distance, and suddenly his mind, charred from the assault, cooled and warmed at the same time, like a happy sun had burst in his mind.

_I'm here, Galen. Stay with me._

"... Jedi?" he croaked weakly, and Sadic chuckled.

"Hayram Antilles, how _righteous_ of you," the Dark Lord sneered. "Let's see how long you can withstand his agony." He snapped his fingers, and the probe began again.

A flash of Galen's mother, wishing him a goodnight as a boy... gone, ripped from him...

The feeling of camaraderie, as he clapped his fellow SIS agents on the back... gone, too, in the span of an instant...

The probe was taking everything Galen was... draining him of being...

Antilles and his sun suddenly struck back, the probe fading for a moment as that light, that strange, ethereal light flooded Galen's mind and made it so he could almost see again... but without eyes...

Distantly, he understood that perhaps this was what seeing through the Force was like.

"I will kill you for this, Sadic," Antilles promised, his voice the lowest, darkest growl Galen had ever heard.

"You will not, slave," Sadic retorted, and the probe began again.

Galen lost more, regardless of how hard Antilles tried. His childhood vanished in pieces, little by little, and it wasn't long (or perhaps it was hours) until Galen forge this parents. Maybe even his sister, if he'd had one.

"No... will not... give... anything..." he grunted, fists clenching so hard he was bruising his own hands.

"We will get what we want," Sadic whispered near his ear again. "Yes..."  
And so it was. The probe proceeded, tearing through his mind year by year until the Republic. Until Galen's oaths of allegiance. Until the SIS.

_"Do you swear to uphold the morals and responsibilities of the Republic?"_

_ "I do."_

_ "And do you swear to protect the Republic against all threats, both foreign, and domestic?"  
"I do."_

_ "And will you lay down your life, if necessary, for the defense of these ideals and the way of life we hold so dear?"  
"I do."_

A gaping void, as the memory was torn away relentlessly, and suddenly Galen began to forget what the Republic was.

_No... can't... must... protect... what?_

_ Galen, stay with me... Agent! Agent!"_

"Sadic! Stop this, you monster!"

"Watch, Jedi. Watch as he is destroyed and remade in my own image."

There was his first successful mission... gone. Torn away horrendously, like his hand...

His hand... which he could no longer feel...

He screamed again, hoarsely, the pain suddenly reaching to the forefront of his mind, and with it the probe dug deeper, feeding on the agony...

He... He...

No... what was his _name_? He... He had one, didn't he? He... used to...

Who was he? Agent... something... Garrett...? Garm?

Garm? Agent? What was an Agent?

A...gent...

Wha... Nothing... left...

_Who... I... Wh-... I dunno... anything..._

_ Rem-ber... sun... light..._

Darkness.


	39. Maintenance- T7-01

**Maintenance- T7-01**

T7 diverted more power to its traction motors and sped up another few meters per second, and sent another transmission to Kira Carsen's comm unit.

Again, there was no response, and the little droid diverted the spark of indignation and urgency back into its motors. Spending time calculating odds would do no good.

In the streets of Nar Shaddaa the droid was a blur, speeding down alleys and between pedestrians with the intensity and agility of a womp rat, all the while scanning channels for any kind of outgoing transmission from the factory.

In fact, T7 was doing over two dozen things at once, and though it strained its capacitors and memory unit it continued regardless. Hayram Antilles was in danger, and T7 was determined to save him.

It sent a transmission to the ship, where Godera picked up the line; T7 remotely accessed the ship's central hold camera to spy on the man.. _"What is it, Jedi?_"

The droid beeped furiously, sent a text message to the computer screen of the console at which Godera was picking up the call.

_"Eh?"_ The doctor took a second to read, quickly processing what T7 wrote.

_Jedi Antilles and Agent Galen captured. Need message sent to Masters Kiwiiks and Din, contact numbers in ship computers. Send broadcast frequency five: standard alert message for any undercover Republic SIS agents that may not be captured._

_"I know what broadcast frequency five is, you bucket of bolts!"_ the Doctor muttered. _"Since when do you order me around?"_

_… Is that a serious question, Doctor? A Jedi Knight is in danger, and I have reason to believe that an invasion is about to occur on Nar Shaddaa._

Godera perked up. _"An invasion? The Empire?"_

T7 would use every tool at its disposal, including Godera's bias. _Yes. The Empire will invade soon. Prepare, Doctor. We require your help._

_"Bloody Imps. I'll show them. Power Guards and access codes, yes... Put together a package for that Sadic, stealing _my_ bloody idea..."_

_The transmissions, Doctor._

_"I'm getting to it!"_

Satisfied, T7 cut the line, sped between the legs of a wookie and ignored the howl it gave it, then tore off down a side street to cut through the Red Light Sector.

Organics might panic. T7 knew better, and knew that even with the odds against it there were always tools available. Godera was one, and no doubt the genius would be planning some sort of counterattack that would be, while also unpredictable, no doubt beneficial to their rescue of Hayram Antilles.

Another was Nar Shaddaa itself. T7 stopped at a public access terminal for just a moment, inserting its interface stick into the terminal and quickly planting a worm into the various club cameras and bodyguard visors used by the various Hutt cartels and gangsters to protect their property. The result, when the images were compiled in no more than ten seconds, was an incomplete but workable view of the local city in that very moment.

The various viruses and worms T7 had picked up from Imperial Intelligence were a useful tool, indeed.

The droid scanned the pictures together, searching for red hair and a slenderly built, five foot nine inches tall human female.

_Searching... Three results..._

_Compiling coordinates..._

Having found a likely location for Kira Carsen, T7 ejected from the terminal and proceeded down a sideway, darting between a brawling mandalorian and bith.

Kira Carsen was instrumental to T7's hope for rescuing Hayram Antilles. If there was a tool upon which its hopes were pinned, she was it.

Still, other measure could be taken in the meantime. It still had an estimated three hundred and ninety-one seconds until contact, and that was presuming that she did not move from her previously registered location.

T7's next task was to alert Bragga the Hutt. The owner of the Promenade entertainment suites, Bragga was the gangster in the best position to begin preparations for an assault. However, the idea of a Sith invasion would seem unlikely to the organic, so T7 prepared accordingly before it sent the message ahead to Bragga's personal terminal, hacked with the assistance of an Imperial Intelligence brute force malware assault.

_Boss-_

_ Found a bunch of Reemro's gangsters crawling around our turf by the maintenance shafts. They had explosives. Bet they're going to try to take our cameras offline. We should send a couple guys to each entrance, get ready. He's been looking at your place for months._

_ -Neeth_

The information was gathered by perusing old holonet records for the promenade in the last six months, in which T7 quickly found hits on the most commonly occurring names. It wasn't long before it deduced that Reemro the Hutt wanted Bragga's domain, and the pilfering of a security chief's name solidified the deception. Lazy and arrogant as he was, T7 doubted that Bragga would do much, but some security was better than nothing, and the action took less than three seconds.

Moving on to the next task, T7 darted behind a vendor's stand, and continued through the Red Light Sector and into Shadow Town. Kira Carsen would be close...

The next tool at T7's disposal was something less concrete and more of a possibility. It checked radio broadcasts beneath frequency five, hoping Godera had done as asked.

T7 did not know what to think about the Force, but wondered idly if it was responsible when a single Republic IFF registered beneath the communicator frequency. The droid dove into the signal, pinging it back and forth, and within moments recognized the registry as that of Havoc Squad.

There was, however, no response. It seemed the commander, whoever it was, deemed their mission to critical to allow external communication. T7 cut the line, calculating the chances of other Republic forces in the area.

It came up with none.

It's thinking was interrupted, however, when the electronic billboards that dominated the skyscrapers around the red light district suddenly fizzled, then flashed at their various advertisements and neon signs were replaced with a face.

A Sith war mask. Darth Sadic.

_"Slaves. Dissidents. Cretins. My name is Darth Sadic,"_ the Sith Lord announced, his voice overtaking that of the familiar twi'lek announcer. All around T7, sentients of every species stopped, stared, some gasping, others backing away uncertainly.

The droid moved, even as Sadic spoke. _"I am informing you that your pretentious neutrality has come to an end. This world now belongs to the Sith Empire, and within an hour your streets will be filled with our soldiers. Do not resist. Any such attempts at rebellion will be met with lethal force."_

T7 calculated, diverted more power to its motors. It had to find Kira Carsen. It had to get help.

_"To pretend to be better than the Empire is arrogance of the highest caliber. I shall be your rightful master, and you _will _serve me. Prepare for your ascendance, slaves."_

The Dark Lord cackled gleefully, and the billboards fizzed out of operation.

Inwardly, T7 found it a poor indicator of their odds now that it seemed Sadic had taken control of the holonet on Nar Shaddaa, though how he done so remained a mystery.

It finally entered Shadow Town proper, deep inside a superstructure where the billboards hadn't reached, and where the drug-users and criminals went about as usual. T7 headed into the refugee slums with as much haste as it could muster.

As an afterthought, it checked on the ship cameras and spotted Godera, messing with some sort of gadget in the cockpit, but noted that the transmissions had been sent.

A thrum of satisfaction jolted inside T7's behavioral core, and it set its full power on locating Kira Carsen.

Based on the events it had witnessed in the junk yard and in the refugee camp, it seemed likely for Kira Carsen to return here to bid goodbye to her friend. As a sentimental organic, such an action would be the most emotionally logical, but given that the young Jedi had been in an upset state such actions could not be reliably predicted.

Therefore, it seemed that T7's success would depend on luck. It _twooed_ irritably.

The camp was the same as it was when they had last been, the various evocii huddling around their fires and tents. T7 scanned the area quickly, looking for trademark red hair. Nothing.

T7 rounded the corner of the camp, searching. The results were not satisfactory, and with nothing else to go on, things were steadily becoming less optimal.

It screeched loudly, on the off chance that it had missed the Padawan.

Somehow, it seemed that it had.

"T7?" a familiar voice said incredulously, and T7 whirled to see Kira Carsen sitting beside her friend, Enaq, covered in a blanket and warming herself by a glowing lamp. Her face was sunken, her eyes bloodshot, her hair mussed. _Irrelevant. _The droid rolled up to her feet and purposefully rammed into them. "Ow!"

_T7=needs Kira Carsen!_ It urged. _Kira Carsen=must come quickly!_

"T7, I don't know how you found me," Kira Carsen said, eyes narrowed dangerously, "but you need to go back to Hayram. I don't belong with him. I'll just get him killed."

This Kira Carsen was different from her normal self. Instead of appearing confident and bold, Kira Carsen now seemed full of doubt and self-pity. T7 did not have time for it, and adjusted its actions accordingly.

It sent a small shock bolt to her leg, stinging her, and she yelped and backed away, then cursed in Huttese.

_Hayram Antilles=in danger!_

_That_, somehow, got her attention. Finally. "Hayram's in trouble?" she asked, her aggravation dropping.

_Jedi=captured with Agent Galen in Sadic's base!_

"He went _back?_" she blurted angrily, throwing the blanket out. "That idiot! He should have waited! He should have known he couldn't just _charge in_ and _take_ them all on!"

_T7=agree. T7=thinks Hayram should have waited for new lightsaber._

"He _lost_ his lightsaber?" she barked. "Force, why didn't he _tell_ me?! Argh!" She paced vicously, biting her lip. "I... I can't, T7. If I go back there, I'll lose it. If I see Matthias, or maybe even Sadic, I... I can't... I can't let the Emperor come back... I-"

T7 zapped her again, this time on her right hand. She hissed, clutching the appendage in offense. _Time=gone_, the droid said plainly. _Kira Carsen=needs to save Hayram Antilles._

"I..." she started, trailed off, eyes darting back and forth, that accursed doubt still plaguing her.

T7 frantically searched its databanks, looking over the various images in its memory, trying to find something, anything...

It activated its holoprojector and beamed a large image onto the ground, a memory from not so long ago...

Kira Carsen stopped, stared at the image of herself and Hayram Antilles laughing, as she bit into a large muja fruit. T7 had watched from the sidelines with interest, monitoring hormone levels for mathematical enjoyment.

_Hayram Antilles=Kira Carsen's friend._

Her eyes softened, then steeled. A great conflict seemed to take place in her organic mind before her right hand clenched the lightsaber at her belt. "Where?" she asked shortly.

T7 replaced the image with a map of Nar Shaddaa, indicating the acceptable coordinates with a glowing dot. _T7=will show Kira Carsen-_

"No time, and I know Nar Shaddaa well enough myself," she cut in, and looked to her friend. "I'm sorry, Enaq. I have to go, but I'll be back."

"Go, my friend!" he urged, smiling quickly. "Go! Save your... eh... other friend."

She took a breath, and T7 rolled back in time before she vanished from view, flashing down the street in a burst of Force-assisted speed.

T7 took half a second, which was a very generous amount of time, to allow its behavioral matrix to simulate irritation and fatigue, then rolled out of the refugee camp. It still had steps to take to prepare for the invasion.


	40. Prey- Darth Sadic

**Prey- Darth Sadic**

The Jedi was snarling in vain, and Sadic grinned deliciously beneath his mask.

"Antilles, you are most enjoyable to watch, do you know that?" he asked slowly, treasuring the way the creature's face moved in reaction to the words. The Jedi strained against the shackles, even as Agent Galen's husk of a body was continually fitted with further cybernetics. At this point, the droids had already replaced both arms and fitted a robotic eye onto his skull.

Antilles grunted mightily, trying to break free, but the drugs Sadic had personally injected into his body drugged his higher functioning so that he could not consciously connect to the Force. "You'll pay for this, you monster," he swore _again_.

Sadic shook his head. "I fail to see how you were ever such a threat. Granted, you do have a... disturbing tendency to perform miracles at inconvenient times, yet you fell so grandly into this little trap..."

He strode slowly over to the droid that hovered behind Antilles' head, plucking the probe it held between his fingers. Connected to the computer via a long cable, all it needed to begin wiping the Jedi's mind was direct contact with the subject's brain; it would do so by emitting timed electrical pulses that would systematically disseminate any neurological activity Sadic desired.

Looking at the way the probe glinted in the low light of the main chamber, Sadic decided to do the deed himself. More satisfactory, that way, if not necessarily more efficient, and he began to calculate the optimal trajectory for implantation in the back of the cranium.

"Perhaps I'll discover the truth once I pry into that head of yours," he mused, and was rewarded by another valiant struggle. On a whim, he added, "Interestingly, I think you would have made a very dangerous Sith."

"I'd never join you," Antilles snapped.

"Of course not," Sadic agreed. "Too bound by Jedi dogma to change your ways now. A pity." He lashed out a hand and telekinetic energy pinned Antilles still, though the man managed to squirm a bit. Sadic frowned distastefully.

The Jedi glared daggers, mouth pressed into a thin line. "This won't work," he gritted out.

Sadic blinked. "But of course it will," he said simply. "You think yourself invincible, do you? The universe works in absolutes, Antilles. Even you are not immune to the reality of physics." He twirled the probe, aimed, and smiled again.

Then he plunged the probe into the Jedi's skull, directly into the cortex, punching through the bone easily with the sharpened tip and Sadic's own augmented strength.

He hummed pleasantly at the gasp the Jedi made, eyes widening and flitting madly in their sockets. "There, now," he said smoothly, and looked at the display on the droid floating beside him. The screen blinked, scanning the Jedi's brain tissue, then winked green and projected a two-dimensional map of the various neurological impulses registered at the moment. Many in the emotional center, some more primitive reactions, and plenty of activity in the memory centers. Likely the Jedi was trying to defend them, knowing what was coming.

Sadic almost chuckled at the Jedi's tenacity._ The nerve of this one..._

Flicking a switch on the screen, he directed the probe to send minute signals to the memory centers. Wipe away the man, and the rest of his defenses would crumble.

Humming ever so slightly, the probe began, and Sadic hummed contentedly under his breath. Another loyal servant, another victory.

Yet instead of the brain activity slowing or stopping in the directed region, the display remained stubbornly the same. The Dark Lord raised a scarred brow and tapped the screen. "Intriguing," he murmured, and reset the display; nothing changed.

He glared down at Antilles. "That's... odd," he allowed. The Jedi groaned, and Sadic hissed. "It is a glitch in the machine," he insisted, and reset the droid again, before increasing the output of the device even further. If brain damage was sustained, it was an acceptable trade for a servant as powerful as Antilles.

Yet even then, the brain activity failed to falter.

_This should not be happening,_ Sadic knew to himself. "What is this?" he demanded, and a few of his soldiers backed away at his harsh tone.

"... Resistance," the Jedi whispered from parched lips, fists clenching in their shackles.

And Sadic's eyes widened beneath his mask. "... You should not be speaking," he ordered Antilles. "This is impossible."

The screen suddenly winked red, and brain activity _increased_.

"Stop your fight, Jedi!" he warned darkly. "You will only add to your suffering."

"I'll... never... let... you win..." Antilles managed, gritting his teeth again, and Sadic pushed the probe further, more out of cruelty than anything else.

"You will fall," he assured the Jedi. "You are mine. All of you is mine. You are _nothing_."

Antilles didn't respond, and Sadic was relieved. Then a new voice, feminine and full of anger, conjured from the air: "Actually, he's _mine_." And a blast of Force power slammed into Sadic and took him off his feet to land him atop a pair of Power Guards, the probe slipping from his grasp.

A violet lightsaber blade sprouted from thin air, followed by a girl in Jedi robes, appearing as if teleported into existence. In a smooth motion she yanked the probe from Antilles, spun her blade to catch the instant blaster bolts that sprang from the guards' blaster rifles and redirected them back at their owners. The men fell to the ground, dead in the middle of the _creation chamber for the Power Guards._

Invaded in the middle of his territory, Sadic launched to his feet, lightsaber alight in his fist. "You!" he snarled, lightning crackling in his palm, rage in his heart.

The Jedi girl twirled her blade, staring defiantly around at the Power Guards, who waited dutifully for instructions. There were dozens of them, a nd Sadic smiled grimly beneath his helmet. "Fool. You've come right into my hands."

Sadic's confidence waned somewhat when Antilles stirred and managed to tumble to his knees off the bed, the shackles buckling under the power he somehow summoned. He pulled his robe hood over his head instantly, protecting his skull and the hole leaking blood at the back of it, and he stood shakily to lean against his companion.

"You're not taking him," she announced, voice shaky even as her eyes narrowed defiantly.

Sadic reached into the Force and drank in her fear. "You again," he repeated. "I remember. Shall I call our lord Emperor? Or your acquaintance?" He tapped a command at his wrist gauntlet, the computer initializing and ordering one particular Power Guard to step forward from the mob surrounding the Jedi...

The husk of Ceran Matthias strode forward with purpose, staring at Carsen with dead eyes and a raised claw. The girl sucked in breath, backed away a step that made Antilles fall to the deck weakly, clutching at his head. She nearly tripped even as she readied her blade, and Sadic almost laughed.

"You came back for what?" he demanded to know. "To sacrifice yourself for him?" At her flicked glance Sadic knew his intuition was correct. "Such empathy... a fool's doctrine. You cannot save him, and you and I both know my servant will get the better of you, girl."

Matthias moved forward, and Sadic punched another key. The Power Guard unsheathed a long vibroknife, the tip glinting as it angled toward Carsen. "I think I will draw this out," he said slowly, enjoying the rich scent of despair coming from her. "There's no need to use all my men when one can do the job. More efficient this way."

Carsen swallowed, breathing coming in short gasps as the man she murdered walked toward her with single-minded, ghostly force. Her lightsaber shook in her hands.

Sadic smiled. "Matthias: kill."

The Power Guard lunged, and the Dark Lord expected the blade to bury itself in the Jedi's heart. Instead, however, Carsen took a breath and vanished into thin air again, lightsaber shrinking away.

Sadic sighed in disappointment. "Ran away again. A pity. It would have been most amusing."

A whisper from the air around him: "I... I haven't run. No more running."

The Sith narrowed his eyes. "You weren't wearing a stealth belt, girl..."

"...N-no... I wasn't..."

Sadic let out a laugh, clapped his hands. "Marvelous. It seems you have some talent after all. Now then, while you have indeed proven to be a complete irritant to my plans, I'd rather begin my invasion of this wretched world. Matthias: seek human footsteps, kill source."

He heard Carsen gasp again, and the Power Guard lunged at a spot in the air. The girl reappeared, mouth open as she clutched at her enemy's hand. Sadic thought, for a second, that he had stabbed her, but with a heavy shove she yanked the arm back and held the vibroknife a few inches away from her abdomen, arms trembling with the effort, knees shaking as she stood up to the larger and augmented Matthias.

The former serial killer placed a second hand on his knife and pushed, and Carsen redoubled her efforts, face reddening with fear and exertion, and Sadic took the time to stroll closer to the pair, watching them with an air of interest as they struggled. Antilles tried to stand from his position on the floor and Sadic kicked him leisurely in the throat, enjoying his gurgles of pain.

"Such a struggle," he observed, staring at Carsen, whose eyes switched between his and Matthias with a rapid pace. "The struggle of a wounded animal, of _prey_ about to be devoured..."

"I'm not... p-prey," she tried, and the knife surged just a _bit_ closer to her flesh...

"But you are," Sadic informed her maliciously. "You always have been, my dear. You even ran from your glorious destiny with our Emperor. A cowardly act. Prey runs, Kira Carsen, and you have always run."

He placed his hands behind his back. "Prey is always caught, one way or another," he finished, as Matthias' powerful arms surged-

That should have been the end of it. Carsen should have given up. She _should_ have died. All his calculations, from measuring her strength to her weakening reserves of energy, indicated that this was the end.

Instead, Carsen's eyes flashed a slight hue of blue and the knife backed away steadily, ever so slowly but irreversibly, away from her body. Matthias stared ahead, oblivious, and Carsen's lightsaber levitated from her belt to float in the air beside her.

She said, "I forgive you," to the Power Guard before her, something in her face resting quietly, and Sadic panicked, drawing his lightsaber-

Carsen's blade ignited and cut through Matthias' arms. The knife fell with them and she caught her saber neatly, spun it once, and sliced through the husk's head in one fell swoop. The Power Guard toppled, unmoving, and Sadic roared, stabbing at her with his scarlet blade-

Carsen _moved_, flashing to Antilles' side and staring at Sadic again. "I'm not prey," she repeated. "I am a _Jedi_."

Then she grabbed Antilles and flashed from the room, a burst of Force Speed that even Sadic couldn't anticipate.

For a single, frozen second the Dark Lord contemplated the mistake he made, and wondered how he'd suddenly lost his prize. Both prizes, to be exact.

He roared, slashed his lightsaber downward and cut through Matthias' body, then again, then again, his anger growing and being fueled by the destruction.

"Guards!" he screamed furiously. "Prepare for the invasion!"


	41. Anguish- Kira Carsen

**Anguish- Kira Carsen**

Kira ran all the way back to the ship, and when she finally arrived and let her Force Cloak fall she was exhausted, nearly dropping Hayram on the lowered ramp. Doctor Godera looked at them from his vantage point at the top, sniffed, and helped to carry the Jedi inside nonetheless, T7 _twooing_ nervously at their side.

"He's going to be okay, T7," she said to the droid, as they half-carried the man to the medical bay on the lower deck, but Kira wasn't entirely sure of her own words. He wasn't breathing much; the kick Sadic had made to his throat hadn't helped his drugged and _stabbed_ brain recover...

She shook her head as she laid Hayram on the bed. _No... don't think about that... he'll be okay, he always is... it'll be fine._

"Hold on, tough guy," she whispered, and glared at Godera. "Help me! I need bandages and... uh... liquid... or something."

Godera was already peering over Hayram, opening an eyelid and staring grimly down it. He pressed lightly on the Jedi's throat, winced when Hayram coughed violently. Finally he pressed fingers to the wound on his skull, frowned when his fingers came away sticky with blood and fluid.

"Bah. He's gone and gotten himself injured badly..."

"I _know_ that," Kira snapped suddenly, and was unfazed by Godera's cold stare. "I get it. We need to help him-"

"You don't understand, Padawan," the doctor replied cuttingly. "His throat has almost been collapsed, and he's hemorrhaging in his brain."

Kira felt the blood drain from her face. "... What are you saying?" she whispered, her voice sounding weak and frail even to her.

Godera did not hold back. "He's dying, girl. He'll fall unconscious in a few minutes." There was not an ounce of empathy, the man's eyes steel and cold.

Kira felt her knees give out, falling back against the wall of the medical bay. T7 squealed defiantly. "I... But... but..." The idea that Hayram was dying seemed utterly incomprehensible.

In the end, though, Kira couldn't think of a _but_.

"That's not true," she denied pathetically.

Godera huffed nonchalantly. "Casualty, girl," he said gruffly. "Get used to it. This is a war. Speaking of which... I have a weapon for you." He moved to grab an item from his workbench-

Kira suddenly snapped. "GET OUT! If you can't save him, LEAVE!"

Godera blinked, frowned, but seemed to accept her reaction, rather than berate her. He hobbled from the medical bay and Kira leaned over Hayram's bed, staring at him with such an intensity she thought she might break him from her gaze alone.

"...Can you hear me?" she whispered.

The Jedi blinked slightly, painfully. His skin was starting to lose color, his eyes darkening around their edges. Blood was leaking onto the pillow that his head lay on. "...Kira..."

"I'm here," she murmured, grabbing his hand. "I... I'm going to heal you..."

"...Have to stop Sadic," Hayram rasped, shuddering.

Kira shook her head. "No. Not without you."

"...Losing it... Can't think straight..."

"Stop it," she pleaded.

"Kira... you need to go... people-"

"Stop it! I don't _care_ about the people!" she cried, squeezing his hand sharply. "Don't... no, _don't_ fall away-"

His hands grabbed hers, eyes jumping to lock with hers. She could feel, in the Force, his presence flickering like a candle, struggling against a heavy cold wind. "The Power Guards," he tried. "They... going to invade... everything..."

Kira felt heaviness settle on her shoulders. "I can't," she said. "I can't do it alone. There are... hundreds, Hayram... I need your help..."

"Have... to stay here," he whispered.

"You _can't_ die," she said, and closed her eyes, reaching into the Force. A brain hemorrhage. She could fix that...

_No_, a voice in the back of her mind whispered. _You know that you can't..._

"Was... supposed to be different," he murmured, eyes staring into space above her.

The chill was tangible, freezing Kira to the spot. "It can still be," she said, weakly. "You... you don't have to follow Galen," she said, insight lighting the way.

His eyes filled with regret. "I... failed..." he breathed, coughed. "You've got... got to go... stop Sadic from doing the same thing to... everyone else..."

Suddenly, a piece clicked into place and Kira _saw_.

"You're not giving up on me," she said lowly, eyes wide. "Hayram... you _can't_ give up."

"I failed-"

"It wasn't your responsibility," she said, firmly.

But he shook his head, closed his eyes. "It... always is..."

"No," she said. "Please... don't leave me here..."

His breathing was slowing, the monitor on the wall beeping warningly.

She gripped his hand, tighter. "I don't have anyone else..."

He stirred, eyes fluttering slightly. "...Me neither..." The pillow stained a darker red, and he groaned quietly. "Mm... Never had a real... friend before..."

She sniffled, her eyes burning. She didn't bother to wipe them. "Me neither, tough guy," she said, trying to give him a smile.

He turned his head ever so slightly, eyes finally finding hers, and he smiled back. "I... had fun," he tried, for _her_.

Her cheeks streaked with tears that fell all at once. "Me too," she whispered, and he closed his eyes. Panic gripped her and she squeezed his hand. "... H-Hayram?"

But he let out a breath and slumped, and his fingers relaxed.

The monitor flatlined.

T7 _twooed_ sadly.

And Kira was left alone. She shook in place, staring, heart hammering as though it would tear itself to pieces.

And as her thoughts coalesced and formed whole ideas, one image kept returning. A mask, Sith in origin with red eyes.

The loss, the agony holding her, burst into flame, and her eyes seared.

A primal, enraged roar escaped her. "SADIC!"

And Kira ran, not as prey but as a _huntress._

**(O)(O)(O)**

When the girl left, the shadow waited for another moment in the darkness of the hangar, spotting the droid leaving with her. Only the doctor remained, and he was too old and too blind to see the shadow. It sneaked aboard the Jedi ship in seconds, drifting from hall to hall until he reached the medical bay. The doctor had moved off to the workbench, leaving the shadow and the Jedi's corpse alone.

The shadow took in a breath, feeling the hand of the Jedi. He casually lifted an eyelid, gazed upon the young man's face. "Remarkable," he breathed, and brushed a red finger against the man's jaw, to make sure that he was real. "Three hundred years..."

He scowled at the medical console. "Unacceptable," he muttered, and placed his hand on the Jedi's brow, whispering ancient, dark words only known to a few, and the air shimmered like the Force.

_Live, Jedi Knight. Live. The Force demands it._

The shadow set his will upon the Jedi, and in an instant he breathed, chest heaving in a great lungful of air. The shadow looked at the monitor, saw the greatest wound was gone, and nodded, satisfied. He stole from the medical bay, from the ship, before the Jedi opened his eyes.

_Be careful, Hayram Antilles. You cannot die yet._

Ever mindful of his Lord Emperor and the foresight he possessed, the shadow deemed his risk no longer necessary and left, fleeing back to the darkness from whence he came.

And inside the ship, Hayram Antilles opened his eyes, alive.

A/N: True author's notes are on my profile page. Take a look for hints and other commentary.


	42. Collision- Everyone

**Collision- Various**

The first one who died was a gamorrean, and for a moment someone thought it was crook, or a gang fight. There wass no overwhelming response, and the beings on the Promenade were used to violence. It was a fact of life on Nar Shaddaa.

Then the large, cybernetic monsters started to swarm the streets, and everyone started dying.

There was no discrimination. No targeting. Human, rodian, tw'leks, zeltron, bith, mirialan; all were equally vulnerable beneath the onslaught. It came in a barrage of blaster fire, of thermal detonators, of wrist lasers that sliced through heads and stomachs and hearts.

Everyone started to die.

Those in the courtyard panicked, fleeing for safety in the myriad vendors and bars that lined the place. There was no escape; the monsters pursued them, huge beings of a harsh combination of flesh and steel. Red eyes glinted in the night, scanning, searching, finding, killing.

Hutt security sprang into action, firing down at the attackers from the platforms above, from behind the large golden statue in the center of the Promenade. Their bolts hit heavy armor and personal shields, and the monsters turned on them and burned them away, too.

Nar Shaddaa had never seen war, but it seemed that war had come to it.

And all around the Promenade, people started to die.

**(O)(O)(O)**

The Power Guards swarmed the street, originating from Sadic's manufacturing plant and quickly taking the speeder hub nearby, from which they commandeered taxis and buses and landed on the Promenade. Instantly it was chaos.

Nar Shaddaa had never been invaded; there were no resources necessary to any war effort and the infrastructure meant that taking sectors would be a tiring and painful process for any occupying army. Civilians ran for cover, others taking up illegal blasters to the Power Guards.

But Sadic's men were fearsome. They absorbed blaster shots easily, their armor taking the blows and allowing them to swivel heavy guns toward their attacker. Hutt thugs and criminals alike burned before the display, as Power Guards, hundreds of them, landed at the Promenade air taxi pads and started to march.

It was like an unstoppable army of cybernetic _gods_.

Sadic landed after his first wave had taken the initial half of the Promenade, taking a breath of city air and smiling. To his left, a Guard caught a punch from a heavy gamorrean, twisted its arm, and ripped it off before putting a blaster bolt in the thug's head. To his right, a trio of security droids fired at a squad of Sadic's servants before being blaster to pieces, courtesy of inbuilt grenade launchers on the Guards' forearms.

Fires rose into the smoggy sky, lit from smaller business and bars exploding from the combat. Sadic removed his lightsaber and lit it, striding through the entrance corridor and into the Promenade proper, gazing upon the golden statue of the Hutt before him. _Revolting._

Eying it with disgust, he pointed. "Destroy that symbol," he ordered, and a few Power Guards moved forward to do it.

And while the assault continued, still other Guards dragged men and women from their hiding places, taking them back to captured buses for transportation to the manufacturing plant, where they would quickly be turned into new Power Guards to replenish losses and add to the army.

In hours, his stockpile of warriors would double, and then Nar Shaddaa would truly be his.

Sadic watched as his Guards burned the statue to paste with heavy flamethrowers, laughing as the icon of Hutt dominance melted into a puddle of molten rubbish. _A new age for Nar Shaddaa, indeed._

So confident was he in his victory the Sadic paid no heed to the Force or the tremor that suddenly rocked it, only noticing the Jedi when she landed in the Promenade, the ground denting from where she landed.

He turned, stared, and a violet lightsaber blade sliced through his saber hilt; the red sword shrank away and he stood there, defenseless as Kira Carsen caught her saber and stood.

Sadic narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth to taunt her...and froze.

Her presence in the Force was nothing like he'd seen so far. Not scared or brave... but a roiling, thunderous entity of pure _rage_. Her eyes, even from afar, seemed to glint the color of yellow.

And now he was without a lightsaber.

"SADIC!" she roared, starting toward him at a sprint, blade angled to kill.

He calculated his odds and quickly concurred that his time was better spent... anywhere else. He needed to even the playing field.

Sadic turned on his heel and fled. "Guards, attack!" he barked, and blaster bolts sounded, deflected away easily.

He leapt over a trio of twi'leks, moving for a more narrow corridor where he could confuse Carsen, but she stayed right behind him, every few seconds launching her blade at him and very nearly impaling him.

Sadic suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

**(O)(O)(O)**

Hayram breathed, Godera putting a hand on his chest. "Now, boy, if you don't sit still-"

"Kira is out there," he protested. "I have to help her."

"You'll die if you force the issue," Godera snapped. "Listen to me for once, instead of jumping into the fray. Isn't that was almost killed you?" He snorted. "Don't even know how you survived. Jedi magic... trickery..."

"If you have something to say, say it," Hayram growled, and he forced himself off the bed. His throat was still sore, but his head felt better, as though the puncture had miraculously disappeared. Kira, he deduced, must have healed him somehow.

Godera thrust a small datacard into his hand. "This is a special computer spike," he explained. "Sadic must have a central computer from where he commands his forces. If you insert this, it will automatically disable the Power Guards. A complete shutdown command."

Hayram blinked. "You made this?"

"Of course. I designed the bloody things. I know their code inside and out."

Hayram tucked the device into his belt. "Doctor... this is perfect." He remembered the gauntlet on Sadic's arm, and he grinned darkly. _I'll just have to remove that particular limb..._

Godera scoffed. "Of course it is. Why you people don't listen to me more often I'll never know..." He scuffled from the door, and T7 rolled up to Hayram, beeping inquiringly.

"No lightsaber, I know," he muttered. "I'll have to make do."

The droid beeped again, worriedly.

"Don't worry, T7," Hayram said, patting the droid's dome. "I'll be okay. I don't intend to fail this time." He moved to the exit. "This time Sadic is finished."

**(O)(O)(O)**

Kira flung her lightsaber at Sadic again, calling it back to her palm when he narrowly dodged it. She pumped her legs, forcing them to speed up while the coward ducked into a new corridor, one that led him to the upper level of the Promenade. He tapped something on his arm again, and she snarled. "Come back and face me, you monster!"

He cackled viciously. "What's the matter, girl? Have I killed your friend? Or someone more?"

Kira screamed, a blast of Force power accompanying the spike of anger he drew out. The floor where he'd been exploded, but the Sith Lord leapt away, moving to an adjacent platform. Kira tried to follow-

-And nearly ran into a Power Guard that jumped from a taxi above. It stabbed at her with a jagged vibroblade; she sliced its arm off and beheaded it quickly, just in time to duck from a shotgun blast behind her. Kira spun, impaling the Power Guard.

It stared at her and readied another shot. Kira shouted, her voice magnified, and the Guard tumbled over the edge of the platform, into the bottomless pit of Nar Shaddaa's depths. She glared at Sadic, who was watching with mild interest, flanked by a new squad of five Power Guards.

"You think you'll protect yourself?" she called. "I don't care how many I have to go through. I'll get you eventually."

"You're welcome to try," Sadic challenged, and she felt a fresh wave of anger. How dare he taunt her now, when he'd taken everything she had... how _dare_ he...

Kira charged, leaping across the gap and smashing into the Power Guard ranks. The men blasted back from her impact and her blade twirled, slicing two in half and diverting shots from another three. Kira blocked another flurry of bolts, cut the limbs off another, and beheaded a nautolan Guard.

Sadic was running again. _Not a chance, coward_. She sprinted after him.

The Sith Lord darted into the booth overlooking the Promenade, a large, windowed station from which the Hutts or whatever psuedo-royalty was there resided in. A single Power Guard awaited her, and she moved forward, blade angled-

The lights flashed on, and Galen's face stared at her as he hefted a large cannon.

Surprise broke through her rage, and Kira stopped. "Agent Galen?!" she gasped in horror.

Then the Power Guard Galen fired his cannon and the ground before her exploded.

Kira saw the world spin, felt her head hit something hard, and her lightsaber tumbled from her grasp. Pain wracked her body, but she gathered the Force in manic, enraged energy. Her fists glowed from the display and she stood to face Sadic, who watched from near the window.

No, wait, he was rushing her-

His fist made contact with her face, a dark whirlwind of power. Kira's head snapped back, stars exploding before her eyes, but she rolled with the impact and brought her own arms up in a defensive stance. The Dark Lord laughed.

"Predictable, Jedi," he said gleefully, and moved in to barrage her with a series of punches and blows she couldn't hope to defend against. His movements, already augmented with cybernetics, were impossibly fast when combined with the Sith Lord's affinity for the Force.

Kira tasted blood as he slammed his knee into her face, then jabbed her stomach, then gripped her by the throat and lifted her into the air, her feet dangling and kicking uselessly.

She struggled to breath, to regain the anger that had so empowered her... but she realized grimly that Sadic had used her anger to draw her in to a trap with Galen.

His mask peered at her the way a child peered at an insect he was about to crush. "Fear not, Jedi child. You'll be with your fellow soon." His hand started to squeeze and Kira couldn't breathe-

A man in brown, scarred robes bolted into the room, a star of light bursting from his being in the Force, Kira saw her lightsaber fly into the air and remove Galen's head from his shoulders, the Agent's dead eyes closing finally and forever-

Then the room blasted with some sort of power. The window shattered and Kira went flying through it, the world around her a blur as she fell, unable to catch her breath or stop her descent...

Arms caught her neatly, pulling her in to a broad chest that smelled of sweat and Corellian Caelum trees...

_That's impossible..._

But she looked up, saw-

Hayram gazed down at her, _alive_. "Hey," he said, grinning to see her.

Kira opened her mouth, her heart leaping, her breathing hitching in her chest. She coughed, trying to regain the ability to draw in air, and he let her down, supporting her against him. "You... you... No... I..."

"I'm here," he said. "I'm real."

She felt fresh wetness in her eyes and cursed them, her mind whirling with a storm of emotion and pain and confusion-

Hayram pushed her away suddenly, and she saw why; Sadic was there, launching forward with a bolt of lightning spearing from his fingertips. The blast (caused by Hayram, she assumed) had knocked them all from the confined booth, and now they were on the edge of the taxi pad on the outskirts of the Promenade, alone save for the cluster of civilians around them, huddling together in fear or caution.

Kira made to stand but Hayram held up a hand, staring at Sadic coldly. The Dark Lord cocked a head. "Hayram Antilles," he murmured. "I will make you pay for interfering again."

Kira swallowed, wanting to help, but something strong and calm brushed against her mind, like an affectionate nuzzle. _I'll be fine_, he assured her. _This is an even fight_.

And it was. No lightsaber, no army. Just the two of them, Hayram and Sadic.

Kira felt grim satisfaction creep into her limbs. "Kick his ass," she snarled.

"With pleasure," Hayram replied, and leapt.

**(O)(O)(O)**

He is alive, and he is in one-on-one combat against a Sith Lord.

Hayram is in his _element_, and Sadic is already dead. The rest is mere detail.

The dance begins. Jedi and Sith approach and send a flurry of blows toward each other. The Jedi blocks them all, content to allow the Sith to expend his energy first. Sadic is heavy and hits quickly for his size, but Hayram is lean and nimble, dodging or diverting strikes and punches with brushes of his fingers against the arms of the Dark Lord. Sadic growls, anger increasing, and Hayram soon finds an opening birthed by lack of focus.

He strikes once, the power of the Force behind his arm, and crushes the right side of Sadic's mask. It is precise and perfect, the elegant energy only a Jedi can summon.

Pain flares in Sadic's face and his anger increases, and the dance moves onto its second phase.

Sadic moves in, attempting to limit Hayram's mobility, but the Jedi merely leaps over his opponent and kicks, sending Sadic sprawling. The Dark Lord snarls and rolls, a bolt of lighting crackling as it launches at Hayram's chest.

But Sadic, here, is the initiate, and Hayram the master. The dance continues, deepens in elegance.

Hayram leans just so, and the lightning misses; the Jedi punches out, a strike of telekinetic power slamming into Sadic's left arm. The momentum makes the Dark Lord spin, and Hayram slides forward, beneath the retaliatory strike from Sadic to catch the Sith's arm extended. He locks the limb easily, plants his foot in Sadic's back, and heaves.

The crack of the Sith Lord's arm breaking cleanly makes everyone wince, and Sadic howl in agony.

Hayram twists the limb for further pain, a grim satisfaction filling his face, and he brings Sadic to his knees.

This is the final phase of the dance, already over to the trained eye. Sadic tries to summon more lightning but Hayram catches the man's hand, slamming his head into Sadic's helmet. The Dark Lord rears back, stunned, and Hayram raises the other arm with the Force, then twists it a full three hundred and sixty degrees. The bone shatters into utter pieces.

On his knees, Sadic roars his anger and agony and Hayram calls Kira's lightsaber to his hand, spinning the purple blade once to cut the arm brandishing the gauntlet cleanly. The lightsaber sears the limb off and Sadic almost cannot feel it, from the pain he already endures. He watches his arm fall away and Hayram deactivates the lightsaber.

Jedi Knight and Sith Lord stare at one another, one in disbelief, the other in cold fury.

And just like that, the dance is over.

**(O)(O)(O)**

Kira's mouth fell open, as Sadic was brought to his knees. Hayram plucked the arm from the ground, inserted a datarcard, and tapped a few buttons. "NO!" Sadic howled, but the Jedi Knight kicked him in the chin and moved to Kira's side.

The Force trembled, and she heard a great hum, a sigh from the air around them, felt a great many lights in the Force around them dim and go dark. The explosions ceased. The blasters stopped firing.

Though she did not see it, Kira knew the Power Guards had just been deactivated.

"It's over," he breathed. "Godera... gave me this card. He made a spike..."

"That shut down the Power Guards," she finished, remembering what the old man had tried to tell her. "Then... we did it..."

The civilians were looking at each other, muttering and whispering, starting to stand.

Hayram looked back at Sadic, his anger contained but roiling within. "We did it," he said after a long moment.

But Sadic coughed, getting to his knees for a final time. "If I die," he growled darkly, the only good eye on his mask gleaming malevolently, "_you_ die with me."

With his broken arm, he tapped a single button on his chest three times.

The Force whispered a warning, and Hayram shouted before Kira did. "EVERYONE, MOVE!"

It was irrelevant. Sadic charged, a last burst of dark power accompanying him, and he tackled Hayram over the edge of the platform. The two disappeared, and Kira reacted without thinking.

She had just lost him, and wouldn't ever do so again.

Kira jumped over the edge of the platform in freefall, in time to see Hayram shove Sadic away from him. The Sith Lord exploded, his cybernetic suit blasting apart in a violent display that rocked Hayram into an uncontrolled spin in the air, he and Kira falling into the endless pit that was Nar Shaddaa.

It was a hopeless situation. They were dead, certainly. The Sith would have his revenge.

Kira narrowed her eyes. _Don't count on it, you coward_, she said to the ghostly demon, and pinned her arms to her torso and aimed for Hayram.

He was smart enough to spread his limbs to slow his descent, but she could feel his panic. "Hang on!" she called, the air smattering against her face and making her voice dissipate over the distance.

They passed the terminus point of the high buildings. Now they were falling away from any speeder lanes. Kira sucked in a breath, pointing her body at Hayram and surged forward, using the Force to assist her motion.

She barreled into him and wrapped her arms and legs around his body, yanking him forward. "What are you DOING?!" he blurted.

"Saving your life!" she snapped back. "Stop fighting me!"

He ceased his struggling and went limp, and Kira focused, craning her neck to see her target.

There _had_ to be a target... _Please let there be a target..._

_THERE!_ A single taxi pad, far beneath them that connected to Shadow Town. It was far to their left, but if they moved enough-

She rolled the two of them, using the Force to alter their angle of descent so that they were aligned with the pad. Now it was directly beneath them, a fast-approaching tiny circle of permacrete and durasteel that was their only chance for survival.

"We're going to hit!" Hayram shouted.

"No we're _not_," she argued, and flipped them so that she was on the bottom. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the wind.

"We don't have a parachute!" he added.

"SHUT UP!" she snapped, clutching him tightly, wrapping the Force around them and setting her will upon their bodies. _Stop, stop, stop, stop..._

She looked to their side, saw the buildings rushing by slowing ever so slightly, but a look at the taxi pad told her it wasn't enough. They only had seconds left...

"Kira..." Hayram said, eyes wide.

"I said shut it!" She squeezed her own eyes shut, focused, blocking out everything, the feel of the wind, of falling, of Hayram close to her, of her own heart thumping in fear...

_Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop..._

Her mind _trembled_, the air warping around them. She screamed, throat releasing the tension within her and she focused, focused...

_Come ooonnnn dammit..._

They slowed, slowed...

Her back touched the pad and she flinched reflexively... but no heavy impact came. Instead they landed gently, rolling apart and she gasped, staring up at the dark sky, bewilderment and amazement rushing through her.

"No... way..." she whispered.

Hayram, also breathing heavily, said, "...You just... stopped our fall... from... all the way... up there..." He pointed at the origin point at the Promenade, far above them. Hundreds of stories. "... Force, Kira..."

She blinked, sitting up. "... I... You and me... we're even," she said, looking at him as he copied her movement.

He swallowed, nodded. "...Sounds good..."

Then Kira remembered that he was alive, and she surged forward instinctively, adrenaline and joy overcoming any doubt or reservations-

She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his torso and leaning her whole weight into his. He jolted from the contact, almost falling back, but after a second he leaned into the kiss and pulled her closer, arms squeezing her to him, as though he was afraid she would fall away at any second.

Their lips collided again and again and Kira was swept away in the sensations, the jittery energy filling her and making her moan in delight.

Eventually she pulled away, tucking her head into his neck, clutching him to her. She was shaking with some mixture of relief and utter happiness, and she whispered, "Please don't leave me again..."

Being the one of few words, he nodded and said only, "Never," and held her tighter.

**(O)(O)(O)**

**A/N: Remember, Author's notes are on my profile page. View it for interesting snippets, hints, and questions. Also, if you liked something, please review. It helps to motivate me to write more.**


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